


The Apex of the World

by UnapologeticallyMeatwad



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Crimson Flower, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Mutual Pining, War is hell, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2020-10-13 16:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 78,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnapologeticallyMeatwad/pseuds/UnapologeticallyMeatwad
Summary: There are two possibilities.One — Edelgard has lost control over her empire.And Two — Edelgard has lost her mind.(a canon divergence AU of Crimson Flower)





	1. Snapping Twig

There are two possibilities.

One — Edelgard has lost control over her empire.

And Two — Edelgard has lost her mind.

Byleth cannot pinpoint when it started, there are too many moments to fathom. But to name a few…

Early into her return, the Death Knight brought this horse into the monastery. Everyone, even her students, were so — used to him. It wasn't normal. But over five years, it became just that. Worse yet, the Death Knight caught her staring and simply nodded, as if that should suffice. He went to a backroom strategy meeting that even Byleth — head of the Black Eagle Strike Force — wasn't allowed to attend.

Someone changed the history books. It was Lyndhart that pointed it out. He was rambling about some war he had just read about, but his words made no sense. Byleth carefully pointed out that he was wrong, but when she went to the library, none of the books recalled what she did.

Then there was the time she was walking back to her dorm room in the dead of the night, having worked many hours past curfew. It was dead silent. Byleth paused to reflect and then there was a twig that snapped behind her. She turned, and saw nothing. She never found whoever it was, but she's sure Hubert has her under watch.

The question is — does Edelgard know?

She doesn't seem to. She acts as she always has. Last night, they sat on the lip of a stone tower and ate sweets for hours. Byleth knows that she needs to stay away from her but… when shopping at the market she found a board game that she just knew Edelgard would love. One thing lead to another, and now she's back to wandering the courtyard aimlessly.

When Edelgard ordered her army to seize the crest stones, she didn't even look at Byleth. Didn't even consider that if she had actually asked Byleth for help, she would have said _yes_. But then again, when Lady Rhea ordered Byleth to kill Edelgard on the spot?

Byleth took too long to answer.

It's mutual. They both failed each other.

Even now, Byleth has been so cautious in her strategy that not once has she resorted to a Divine Pulse. Logistically, it makes no sense, there is no science that says conserving Divine Pulses will consequently allow her to move farther back in time. But maybe, it would work.

If things go too far, she cannot hesitate. She will try, she will go back to that moment.

_I must kill Edelgard._

_I must protect Edelgard._

They are right to distrust Byleth. Even though she's too much of a coward to do the deed. Every time there is some travesty, she decides that the devastation is the new line to cross. Anything worse will trigger what she needs to do.

Are there others like her?

Doubtful. At least, none of her own. Her students love her unconditionally and gave up so much because they trusted her decision. For the most part, they seem happy. Though Petra is withdrawn, and Ferdinand is paler than normal.

But they won't openly rebel. They are too complacent. It's cruel to make that judgment, but it feels truthful.

For a moment, she considers holding herself up in the classroom and making a pros and cons list on the blackboard. But that's wrong. She is teaching tomorrow after all, and she will need more time than a day, oh, and this too. She _hates_ the new classroom. She hates sitting at this long table like she is the most important person in the world. A gathering of the world's greatest minds.

A new ideas comes to her quickly. She must speak to Edelgard at once. About the classroom, of course.

On the way, she buys yet another gift for Edelgard at the market. This one is an adorable armored bear stuffed animal at the market. She rushes through the campus at a full sprint, working her way up to the cathedral and —

— the Death Knight again.

Such nerve he shows to bring his horse into their home. He bobs up and down, hardly noticing her, but just as she is about to sprint up the stairs, the clopping of hooves ceases. She turns, and the giant man steps onto the floor. His black skull turns to her, and she realizes how little she knows of him. How grotesque he appears, he grotesque they all are. Solon and Kronya. Thales.

Those who slither in the dark.

"_Do not think less of me just because of my appearance child_," his warped voice announces. _"If you are fighting this war, then surely your heart is just as ugly as what you see here_." He gestures to his face, and then pulls himself back up on the horse and takes his leave.

Byleth stands there for some time. He's wrong about her. She — she knows that in the future, that this war will be for the best. It's just bloody right now. Too much blood.

Byleth finds Edelgard alone in the waiting room besides the throne. She has never once sat on the throne, crossed her legs, clawed at the armrest with one hand, while pushing her other hand to her cheek. She's not that kind of noble. Though occasionally, especially after they return home from battle, Edelgard eyes the throne with the same desire she looks at Byleth with. Her mouth waters.

She wants it.

Though the throne contradicts everything she stands for. Byleth wonders why Edelgard left it there. She destroyed the church after all. Why not the throne too?

"Hello professor," Edelgard says in a low voice. "Now, isn't a good — what on Earth are you holding?"

Byleth's jaw drops and for a second she stands there dumbly. What is she supposed to say? Ultimately, she holds out the stuffed animal and winces.

"Oh, is that — " A soft pink crawls into Edelgard's puffy cheeks. " — is that for me? Th-thank you. You're very thoughtful."

Her arms extend and very delicately pull the stuffed animal away. Edelgard presses it to her chest with one arm, and gently pats the back of its head. "Sit down, please. I wish to speak to you."

Before, Byleth would put her hands at her hips and say something like, _What happened to now not being a good time?_

Today, she sits. It's all she can afford to.

"I had fun last night, Professor," Edelgard leans forward. "We should do that again sometime."

Byleth smiles faintly, but it drops fast. Her knees crumple in and she feels weak.

Edelgard bows her head. "I know. I wish that it could be like old times. Where we had time for such childish activities… I am only twenty two, yet I have no time — ah, I think that I've done enough navel gazing to last you a lifetime. What do you think, Professor?"

Byleth cranes her neck up, panic running through her veins. Her heart beats so fast. She just wants to teach in her old classroom.

Edelgard interrupts. "If it's alright with you, Professor, could I start calling you Byleth?"

Byleth's heart stops.

Edelgard furrows her brow. "I'm — I'm sorry. Did I strike a nerve?"

"No," Byleth sighs, knees falling, legs stretching out. "Byleth is okay. It has been for a long time now."

They exchange a meaningful look.

"I want to talk to you about the classroom," Byleth says. "I want our old homeroom back."

A gray storm erupts in Edelgard's eyes. "No."

No? Just like that? It catches Byleth's throat. For a moment, it all comes crashing back.

Pages rapidly turning while her eyes read the falsities.

The _clip-clop_ of the Death Knight's horse.

A twig snapping at midnight with no visible parties nearby.

Images of a soft face erupting into wrinkles, graying as the eyes peel back, the white darkening into black and the pupils going red. The whole body warping into something monstrous. Erupting with sores and scales. Perhaps wings. No longer human.

But Byleth steadies herself. Edelgard hasn't warped like… _them_ yet. She's still just Edelgard. Empress Edelgard von Hresvelg now, but nevertheless she is human. For now.

"I'm embarrassed to say it, Byleth, but," Edelgard suddenly finds the corner of the room very fascinating. "My reliance on you makes me look foolish. I'm scared for my soldiers to pass by our old classroom and see me learning next to our friends…"

Byleth just listens.

"I know in my new world order, such a thing will be acceptable, but — " Her eyes drift away and she blinks. For a moment, Byleth thinks she sees tears beginning to come out. But then a knock on the door frame.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," Hubert closes his eyes and bows. "He did not schedule to see you today, but your Historian would like a word. Apparently it is urgent."

Edelgard nods, brushing her arm over her eyes a little dramatically, and rises to her feet. "Tell him I will be a moment. Hubert, would you mind giving me and Byle—the professor — a minute?"

"As you wish, Lady Edelgard," Hubert turns and takes his leave too. Edelgard stands still until Hubert's echoing footsteps slink away into the soundscape.

"Byleth," Edelgard says sternly. "You will see me tomorrow night. Is that — acceptable?"

The pink returns to Edelgard's cheeks and Byleth knows that this is honest. She stands up and takes Edelgard's hand with both of hers. Presumptuous. But it feels right. She bows her head. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Byleth…" Edelgard sighs.

Byleth looks up in dismay. Did she do something wrong?

"Call me El," two wrinkles fold under Edelgard's eyes. "It's what my father and siblings called me when I was little. No one's called me El in years. Until now, I trust_._"

There are two possibilities.

One — Edelgard knows of Byleth's desperate love for her, and is playing to those interests so that she may manipulate her.

Or two — Edelgard is hopelessly in love with Byleth.

But the Kingdom might not have enough time for them to find those answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can [follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/IAmLordMeatwad) for tweets about my cats and fanfic, and [follow me on Insta](https://www.instagram.com/katrinajagelski/) for similar stuff. Occasionally I do live reads for my original fiction and fanfic.


	2. Scraping Chairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I've never had this many views on one story before, and I'm really grateful for that. Fair warning, this chapter is a little slow. Just setting the stage. Next one will be a lot more intense. Just wanted to throw that out there. Additionally, I added some tags between this and the first chapter.

Byleth is right about their new classroom, it is eerie. Edelgard folds her hands across the table, Hubert standing at attention directly behind the back of her chair. She's glad that he's there, because she can't stand the sight of this… _historian_.

"Pardon my ruse," Thales drawls as he swipes a claw at the air, wiping away the meek disguise of her family historian, and morphing into the heinously distorted body she has become all too accustomed to. "It was the easiest way for me to slip in."

"Your… disguise as my uncle is far more tasteful," Edelgard slips through thin, pressed lips.

"No, it is not," Thales retorts. "You have made your disdain for your family too well known among your recruits. Because of your reckless behavior, I can no longer visit you as _him_."

Her fingers dance along her cheek, eyes feigning disinterest. "Very well. But you need to tell me when you are coming from now on — "

" — I will come as I please," Thales snips. "Remember that you are nothing without me, girl. The Church of Seiros would have decimated you had it not been for my men."

Edelgard raises her hand to object but promptly retracts it. She has nothing to say. He is right. Especially in regards to the five years without Byleth. Those Who Slither in the Dark have been her crutch for too long. Without them, she is nothing.

Hubert coughs. "Ahem, Lord Thales, please. There is a _reason_ for your visitation, I trust?"

Hubert's voice has so much grit to it, yet he keeps it so level at all times. Without him, she would also be nothing.

"Yes, negotiations begin at Brigid soon," Thales rests both talons on the table and stretches his fingers wide. "I have heard there has been some difficulty so I — arranged — for a little demonstration."

That's what he always calls the things she is not ever to hear about. She is supposed to nod and say, _Very well_. It's what Hubert asks of her, and what Thales demands. But today…

"Who?" Edelgard raises an eyebrow high and for a moment she thinks she sees Thales hesitate. Little wretch.

"Beg your pardon?" Thales leans forward. "Brigid. You know. The nation we need to — "

Edelgard narrows her eyes. "_Which noble are you turning into a horrible monster this time?_"

Hubert slips protocol. "Lady Edelgard — "

But Edelgard continues. "_How many innocents are you sacrificing for my cause?"_

"_Your _cause?!" Thales gets up so quickly that his chair collapses to the floor. "Which noble is no concern to you — know that I selected the best candidate. I already have spies planted who will tell the people that the slaughter that be the work of Seiros. They will believe the tragedy will be the result of the Goddess cursing them for even considering their leave. If they're rational, they'll side with you."

"No!" Edelgard shouts, hands smacking against wood as she rounds the corner. "My friend has family there — these are innocent people, you can't just — "

Thales smirks. "_Friend_? Ha. If you're worried about this… Petra, then fear not. The information I seed will only fuel her resolve in combat — "

"Petra is more than just a warrior! We are all more than our designated roles! That's the whole point of this you idiot!" Edelgard's chest heaves and she quickly checks that Hubert has begun to layer the room in a ward to cease all sound from escaping the premises. He is of course. She turns back to Thales and jabs a finger at his nose. "I will not win this war because of your lies. What we fight for is true and — "

Thales remains still.

" — and — "

So still.

" — a-and…"

"Are you done?" he spits.

She is.

"I will cease my visitations, Emperor," Thales growls. "Keep your ears to the wall and listen. If things are going your way, know that it's my people that allow for it."

He slashes a baggy sleeve at the air and vanishes.

Edelgard suddenly feels very light-headed. She slumps back in her chair. This is horrible. What is she doing? Who is she trying to fool here? Is there anything she can do to get out of this? Or is her fate sealed away to forever working alongside monsters? Even if she wins, will she ever have control?

She almost pounds her head but remembers that there is company, and her fist that hangs over her head like a mallet slowly drops into her hair, fingers splayed.

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert's unflinching face leers at her. "I apologize for not detecting Thales' presence. Had I known — "

"It's alright, Hubert," Edelgard mumbles. "It's my fault we even rely on them. It's days like these that I consider dismissing you and Byleth so you can craft a plan to kill him, while I win the war. But…"

"With all due respect, Edelgard," Hubert frowns. "This isn't a good train of thought for the moment. However, I prepared for you a cup of tea anticipating your needs prior to the meeting."

She looks up and finally notices her pale fingers carefully pinched to a teacup. He lowers it before her and waves a hand through the air like a true thespian.

She reaches forward and gently takes the cup away from him, hovering the brim just beneath her nose. The scent of strong spices wafts upwards and she almost takes a sip. Her favorite as always. Bergamot would do well for her right now. But today is different from other days.

"Hubert, I don't know what to do," she sets the cup down, voice wavering in her distress. "I can't stand working with these people, but it's not like we can just kick them out. What do you suggest?"

He hesitates. It probably takes him a few seconds to find an answer that would be appropriate. Always acting as if he's on thin ice that one. She should remind him of how important he is.

"I would say that the needs of the many — " Hubert begins.

" — outweigh the needs of the few," she finishes promptly. "Yes, I know that, Hubert. That isn't help— I am sorry. I shouldn't snap at you like that. I guess — I am speaking more of feelings. Of intuition. Not ideology and strategy."

"Ah," Hubert barely lets out. "Perhaps I should find Byleth for you? She seems to make a more positive impact on you in regards to those things."

"Normally yes," Edelgard breaks eye contact and fidgets with the handle to the cup. "But lately when I look in her eyes… she is scared of me, Hubert. I wish to make amends but I don't know how."

She pivots the cup around. "Hubert, what is it that you drink to relieve your stress?" she says suddenly.

Hubert blinks and straightens his spine. So rare for him to be addressed so personally. "That would be coffee, I'm afraid. It is not to your favor if that's what you are asking.."

"Make me some, will you?" Though her voice rasps in its weakness, the sound still surges through her body and gives her great pain.

* * *

Coffee is strong. Far darker than tea, darker than she imagined. It sizzles against her tongue, little grinds reminding her of dirt as it goes down her throat. But it does help her focus. Her vision tightens as this haze comes to her forehead. She understands why Hubert has a preference for this, though she is not sure if she wants to make this a habit. But for today it is good.

She remains at the table for hours, mind wandering. Though the results are inclusive. Too much to process, not enough that she can tangibly do. Is it possible that she is just a figurehead in all of this? Is it possible that as she plans to dissolve Those Who Slither in the Dark that Thales has already plotted for her own assassination? Is it he who whispers in Dimitri's ear and convinces him that she is the very thing he must destroy to be happy?

She doesn't feel like an Emperor, or even a General. Today, she feels like a dog pitted against another. Strangers on the outside cheering, placing bets on which one will go for the throat first.

A knock at the door. It raps against the wood hard and quickly, which is improper. Likely one of her Eagles. She lifts her eyes to meet Ferdinand's who fills up the door frame with his crooked smile and cocked head.

"Ah, Edelgard, I was looking for you!" Ferdinand announces, boldly strutting into the room.

"Oh, Ferdinand, now is not a great time," Edelgard sighs. "We didn't schedule for this, did we?"

"Schedule! Ha!" the noble puffs out his chest with so much gusto. "It is always time for tea, and I brought your favorite."

"Oh, thank you," she daintily grabs the offered cup over. Like hours earlier — Bergamot. "If I can be honest, I just had some coffee."

"Coffee? Oh no, Emperor," he slides into the seat beside her, looking at her like a mourner might gaze at a widow. "You have been listening to Hubert far too much."

Her eyes droop. "Do I?

"Huh? Oh. Oh no, no no no," Ferdinand cringes. "That was a joke. You — you seem to be in the middle of a sensitive moment."

"I am," she says curtly. "I appreciate your company, Ferdinand, but — "

"I have an idea!" Ferdinand springs to his feet, and nearly vaulting across the room. He lands in the seat opposite the Emperor and leans forward, hands pressed together. "Debate me."

"Not this again," she gasps, her temple already throbbing.

"It'll help stimulate your mind, trust me!"

"Oh, very well, just know I will annihilate you, Ferdinand."

"Ha! You know nothing, Emperor, for I have taken the liberty of sorting out my debate proper so that I may best you," Ferdinand smirks. "I implore you to run now for if you wait for my rhetoric, it will be far too late."

Edelgard rolls her eyes. "So… nobility? You honestly think the Crest system works?"

"Yes!" he chirps, again, puffing out his chest a second time. "See, I've done a lot of thinking and I have realized that the only way you have been able to mount this war is because you are a Noble with a Crest! And furthermore — "

"Obviously," she blurts out, immediately embarrassed from her lack of manners. But she is far too tired for this right now.

Ferdinand bites his lip. " — I know it's obvious, Emperor, but — " He looks to the ceiling for inspiration, mouthing a choice set of words, and then jumps back in. " — it's not just that you are a noble, it's that you were given the best. Think about it. Your education, your prestige, the fact that you've had a confidant like Hubert protecting you since childhood. You were only able to mount a war because of your crown. Before that, it was impossible, was it not?"

Edelgard nods, processing all of this rather quickly. He _is _right. Though it's not really an argument, more of a statement of facts. Surely, he is about to come in for a gut punch.

But instead, Ferdinand folds his arms and leans back. "Checkmate, Edelgard."

Oh dear. Well now, she must annihilate him.

"That's stupid," she shakes her head. "I'm not waging this war for me, Ferdinand, I don't even have long to li—" She stops herself. The coffee is making her antsy. She must speak carefully here. No one can know about the twin crests and how they are killing her. She told Byleth already and even that was too far.

"I don't think I'll be a good Emperor. I only forced my way to the crown so that I may wage this war. In regards to policy and taxes, I know not."

Ferdinand raises an eyebrow. "I'm confused."

"As am I," she sighs. "If I can be honest with you, Ferdinand, I didn't expect to feel so — _emotional_. My whole life, I have felt alone, and even at the academy I found great difficulty in connecting with others. But now, when we go to war, I feel for each person we cut down. Be it a former friend or not. Yet I ally myself with those _freaks_ — "

She stops herself again. It is practically a rule that no one is allowed to bring up Those Who Slither in the Dark in her presence. She understands that it is a form of authoritarian censorship, hence being against her code, but it is not something she can rationally explain. No one but Hubert could possibly understand why this is necessary.

"Our war is killing innocent people all over Fódland," Edelgard's eyes open wide and she notices Ferdinand flinch. "If we lose, people will remember me as a tyrant, as a killer. This isn't the first time commoners have suffered in the wake of decisions that purely affect nobility. That is why when this is done, I intend to step down. I wish for someone to be _elected_ into power. By decision of the people. As reparations for what I've done."

Ferdinand laughs but then realizes she is serious. "But Edelgard — h-how are they to do that? Elect someone? Why — will you run a poll? That sounds exhausting."

"I'm not sure," she shrugs. "I haven't put much thought into its mechanics. By mind has been more on striking out to dissolve the Alliance tomorrow."

Ferdinand nods, chin drooping down to his chest. For once, he has nothing to say. He just grabs his little spoon and twirls it about his tea. He almost announces his leaving when Edelgard speaks again.

"Tell me, Ferdinand. Do you still speak with any of our former classmates?"

"Um…" he presses his lips together. "Y-yes. I do. Um. Is that — is that alright?"

For a second, her whole face tightens in concentration. Is it alright? She is probably supposed to say no, perhaps even send him off to a jail cell where he may be interrogated. But she decides in that moment to say no. Her Eagles deserve that connection. It's okay.

"Yes," she strains to say. "Who — who do you speak to?"

Ferdinand again bites his lip. "Marianne mostly. We exchange letters."

"Marianne?" Edelgard leans back finally. "Is that the dour girl who was always praying? I can't imagine the two of you together."

"Oh, no! No, no. Nothing like that. I just — she — I feel for her, you know?"

"We never really spoke."

"Mm. Well, it is not my place to share her story with you," Ferdinand says dryly. "Though I can say that she is turmoil due to her unfortunate birth, and her Crest. I so desperately want her to know that she can become whoever she wants, and that she doesn't need to hold onto those burdens. When I doubt this war, Edelgard, I think of Marianne and what Crests have done to people. It makes me want to fight."

"How unlike you, Ferdinand," Edelgard muses. "To think such a thing, that nobles don't have to be nobles. What did you say earlier? _Checkmate?_"

"I believe so," Ferdinand forces a chuckle out. "And what of you? Any friends from our school?" Immediately, he cringes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have — "

"No. It's alright."

Ferdinand finally rises to look her in the eye. It's odd. Never this grim between them. Something's changing.

"Lysithea," Edelgard admits. "The other white haired girl. She's — "

" — Marianne's friend," Ferdinand finishes. "They still talk."

"That's good," Edelgard says, though she doesn't know what it means when she says, _Good_. "Lysithea — tried to be my friend. She would come to my dorm room and confess things. Things I don't know she told anyone else. But she chose _me_. We — have something in common. She figured it out on her own, and kept pressing me to confirm her suspicions."

Ferdinand's eyebrows shoot up. "Did… did you tell her?"

Edelgard bites her lip. "No. I was scared, and now I feel sad because — when we go to fight Claude, I'm sure she will be there."

"Hilda too," Ferdinand sighs. "Sorry. That was out of line. Forgive me for — "

"_No_," Edelgard's voice becomes so cold it scares even her. It's the voice of people's nightmares. At least, probably Dimitri's. She is sure she haunts him. If only he would let go…

"Ferdinand, I tell you this in confidence. Please don't tell anyone but… I am sorry to put you through this."

* * *

Sometimes Edelgard feels sorry for Hubert. She can walk in on him doing anything, and he will immediately drop that thing and become completely present for her. It's yet another unbalanced relationship in her life. It isn't until she feels the rickety floorboards creak under her heel that she realizes she could have brought him some coffee to begin evening things out.

But that's wishful thinking. She would never really _do_ that.

They sit across each other in their old classroom, eyeing each other down like wolves do before pouncing. For some reason, Hubert tolerates this, his normal scowl melting into a friendly smirk.

"Forgive me for my lip, Your Majesty," Hubert flicks some of the hair from his eyes. "But are we having a sentimental moment? I am actually outlining some of our strategy for tomorrow, and really don't have the time."

"Ah, was I staring? My apologies," Edelgard says ever so softly. "I have a question for you. About the Crest Stones."

"Well, there is not much to say, Your Majesty," he shrugs. "After we looted the Holy Tomb and things began to settle down, Thales came and seized our findings."

A little wrinkle of irritation between Edelgard's eyebrows. "Hubert, do not lie to me."

Hubert freezes, mouth slightly agape. Though Edelgard only made a slight jab, one that a punching bag like Ferdinand is used to, she made it to Hubert. Never once have his loyalties ever been questioned. As such, it takes him some time to collect himself. She allows him that at least.

"Your Majesty, I would never — "

"You would, though," Edelgard rises from the chair, thinking the elevation might help. She advances towards Hubert quickly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "If it would protect me. Hubert, you are far more clever a man than my uncle. You gave him the Crest Stones, with the exception of one. Am I correct?"

Hubert bows his head. "I am sorry to have kept this from you, Your Majesty."

"No need for that," she snips. "Just tell me where it is."

He stifles in his chair. So unlike him. "I am afraid I cannot."

"Why?"

Her tongue lashes out like a snake, though the force of its impact is more like a battering ram.

"Because I have sworn the entirety of my being to your life, El."

Though her next volley of commands is ready at will, something hard catches in her throat. It's not just the name _El._ It's… it's everything. Hubert's eyes are always so vacant, so devoid of feeling, but that visage has only come from practice. But sometimes she forgets that it's not real what he presents, sometimes she just thinks of him as her confidant, and how her heart aches to see his eyes reddening like this. Has she hurt him too?

If she uses the Crest Stone, she will transform into the powerful beast that Those Who Slither in the Dark want her to become. But as that, she can kill and likely save the people that she loves most. It isn't desirable, but there might come a time where that becomes the only way.

"Hubert," Edelgard grabs a chair and drags it over, sitting directly before the man. "I will never be able to say thank you enough times for your service, but you must understand, I'm not long for this world. I — " She presses her lips together to think. What is it she can say to sway him? " — I will not live through this war."

It is so quiet in the room. It makes her anxious. It's just the Black Eagles classroom. Really anyone could be listening in. These are the kinds of words that could get any of her soldiers executed for high treason. But she is the Emperor; she can say these things.

"Claude is smarter than me, Dimitri has more bloodlust than me, and Rhea is more powerful than anything I can grow into. It's been five years, Hubert, and we've made so little progress. I will die, and I know these words hurt you, but try to understand."

"I don't understand," Hubert palms his forehead, face tightening from concentration. "Then who? We need you, Edelgard. None of this works without you."

Edelgard frowns. "Byleth will carry the torch. As will you. And Ferdinand. And Petra. And Lyndhart. And — you aren't going to make me say all of their names are you?"

"No, perish the thought," Hubert waves that off. "Just don't say Caspar. I understand the sentiment, but his name would be too much for me — _this_ is difficult enough as is. Why are you telling me this? Why right now?"

Edelgard bites her lip. Is it because she wants the Crest Stone, and the only path there is to manipulate Hubert? Or is it because she wants at least one other soul to know that she is terrified of what is to come?

"As you are ready to die for me, Hubert," Edelgard tries to inject some of that royal gravity to her voice. "I am ready to die for the people. It is _possible_ that might become necessary."

Another long pause, though this time their eyes don't connect.

"Where is it?" she murmurs.

She is not looking at him, but she sees him rise in her peripherals. Sees that confident smirk return to his pale, languid face. "Back where we found it."

She chuckles. "Hubert, you are brilliant."

"I know. But, I am asking you to make a promise to me. Not just as a friend, but as your general."

The placement of the words is only something he would say to her. It's what corrects all of this and makes things feel normal again. She turns and he takes her hand, bringing his face close to hers. His lips tremble, not from his own fear, but because of what he knows _this_ will do to her.

"If you are to take the stone and intend on using it… you must alert Byleth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a newsletter where I do updates on my professional writing career and other fun gay stuff! Check it out.  
https://tinyletter.com/unapologeticallymeatwad


	3. Dull Thunks

"How could you do it, Professor?! How could you defend the woman who killed Captain Jeralt?!"

Byleth runs at a breakneck pace along a rooftop in Derdriu, bowing low to avoid the onslaught of arrows from Leonie's bow. All over the city, war rages. But none of the Imperials wield real weapons. All Byleth has on her is a Training Sword. The Sword of the Creator, her iconic weapon warriors know to flee from, was left behind at the monastery.

It was a dramatic, last second change in strategy — Edelgard walked in one meeting and made her bold decree that they shall not kill anyone unless negotiations are to go poorly. Several of the old Adrestian strategists were appalled, immediately launching into tirade after tirade about how childish Edelgard is to be doing such a thing.

Byleth herself nearly cried at the announcement, nearly kissed the woman in this moment of joy, but knew it to be inappropriate. Plus, the old strategists were already gawking; less fuel to the fire would be good. Though Edelgard's bold turn was the highlight. The following weeks of rerouting and rethinking were a headache, and now Byleth is face to face with the exact person she did not want to go up against.

Byleth closes the gap fast, sword swinging out and knocking one would-be-fatal arrow off its path, her throat quivering in relief. Leonie growls, slinging the bow over her back and pulls out her lance. She jabs at Byleth's stomach, forcing the woman to jump back, and keep a safe distance.

"Tell me why!" Leonie screams. "You know how important he was to me, how important _you_ were to me, you owe me this! Tell me now!"

Byleth straightens her back and considers it. But the answer is that she honestly doesn't understand. Byleth trusts Edelgard, she can only assume the best in the Emperor and believe that Edelgard isn't lying when she says that she doesn't condone the actions of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Hopefully her Training Sword may be proof of that.

"You must think that you are so special, professor," Leonie's back hunches like a scared cats her canines pushing past her lips for a brief moment. "You never earned any of this. Everything has just been handed over to you."

Leonie is shaking. Something must have happened to her in the past five years. Before, when she got angry, she was quick to withdraw though her points were scathing. Now she refuses to yield, and her points make little sense. What does working with Edelgard have to do with Byleth being given —

— oh, it's a distraction.

Byleth rushes ahead, but it's too late. A blast of fire shoots at her feet, blasting apart the wooden shingles beneath her. Her boots fall into the newfound jagged gaps in the roof, and then it's a surge of wind magic that knocks her free, sending her tumbling down the opposite end of the sloped roof. She grabs a shingle, legs flying over the edge of the roof, but when she looks up — it's Leonie's arrow waiting for her face.

"Tell me," Leonie hisses. "Why Edelgard?"

Byleth blinks. Bows her head and looks back with cold eyes. "You must be so lonely to have dwelled on my alcoholic father for so long."

Leonie's eyebrows raise high in shock, giving Byleth enough time to pull herself back up. Leonie raises her lance but it's too late; Byleth slashes Leonie at the chest and as the girl teeters backwards, and Byleth kicks her right off the roof — it's a safe landing. Perhaps six or seven meters. It's not a death sentence, though somehow Byleth feels in that moment that she has failed her queen.

Another crash and Byleth cranes her neck high. A trio of wyverns fly overhead, so close to her face that the wind cuts into her cheek. She knows that if even _she_ is struggling right now with this new no-kill policy, her friends — no, she can't think of them like that — her _soldiers_ — must be doing even worse. Byleth isn't too clear on the details for the past five years, but her former classmates are clearly out for blood and they decidedly are not.

Byleth gently lowers herself back to the ground, _ploomping!_ besides the fallen Leonie. Thankfully, she passed out. Quickly, Byleth drags Leonie's wrists into the air and restrains her. Before rising to take her back to the camp, she looks at Leonie one last time.

"I shouldn't have said that. I am sorry."

* * *

This is insane. Edelgard is insane, or rather, _he_, Ferdinand von Aeir (_!_) is insane for not speaking up sooner. If apprehending the general Alliance troops is Hell, then he knows not what apprehending his fellow students is.

Caspar barely manages to punch Raphael out. Only with Lyndhart's Wind magic propelling with Caspar's fists does he persevere. But Lindhart was to be supporting Bernadetta, who seem to be overtaken by Ignatz and Lysithea. Ferdinand _wants _to dash off and rescue her, but that might lead to Hubert's death. Because Hubet needs him as much as Bernadetta needs Lindhart. The best Ferdinand can do is trust.

Thankfully, he hasn't crossed blades with any of his old friends yet, the one he dreads the most being Marianne. That's likely just luck, the Black Eagle Strike Force is strong and there is no way any of the Golden Deer are not fielded.

It's when Edelgard drags Lorenz by the scruff of his neck over to him and Hubert that Petra's wyvern lands on the scene. A wave of dust cascades off the brick-laden street and smacks Ferdinand and his horse, Dorte — aptly named after Marianne's horse back at school — in the face.

"Wyverns!" Petra shouts. "From the east!" Ferdinand rushes forward to catch her, but Hubert is faster on the draw, quickly mumbling some healing incantations. Healing incantations that he never needed to know before the war. There's a nick in Petra's side where blood spills out, almost certainly from an arrow. Probably Ignatz. All because Lindhart abandoned Bernadetta for Caspar, and because Ferdinand didn't abandon Hubert for Bernadetta and —

"I need eyes on Dorothea _now_!" Edelgard shouts, pushing Hubert away, arms slipping in to grip Petra by the shoulders. "How many riders?"

"Enough," Petra coughs.

Ferdinand opens his mouth to say that they absolutely must retreat. But he can't. Not as the future Prime Minister. Not in the presence of Edelgard.

But then Edelgard says exactly what Ferdinand thinks, which in actuality, has never happened before. But with those words come a lurching in Ferdinand's stomach. It could be that old rivalry resurrecting itself, or maybe it is because he knows that he is _wrong_. Meaning Edelgard is too.

"We need to retreat," Edelgard says to Hubert quietly. "No more of this. We regroup and rethink — "

"No," Ferdinand steps forward, hand resting on his sword. "If we run, we won't come back from this. Ever."

"Ferdinand, it's an army of wyverns, you and I might be strong enough to hold them off but…" Edelgard trails off.

Ferdinand shakes his head. "Petra. Where?"

"The ships," Petra coughs again. It's very difficult to watch. No one has ever hit Petra this hard before.

"Okay, I — I have a plan," Ferdinand scans the three of them fast. "Edie, find Claude. Lindhart, Hubert, I fear for Bernadetta, I think she is alone. Go help her. _I _will hold off the wyverns."

"That's preposterous," Hubert grunts. "And completely out of line."

Ferdinand sucks in his lips and looks to Edelgard with wide eyes. "Emperor?"

After some tense seconds, Edelgard nods. "It will be done. Go. _Now_."

They scatter fast, leaving Petra resting in an alleyway. She's living off of the remainder of their vulnaries, and obviously it's a gamble to just leave her there, but they don't have a choice. They will never be able to outrun the Alliance when most of their men are all airborne, especially when they are so adept with arrows. Fighting in close quarters is ideal.

Ferdinand just has to bring the fight into town.

* * *

Stupid Bernie. Hubert is going to kill her when he finds out what she did.

She had sights on Raphael — it would have been so easy to let just one arrow loose to down him. After all, they had made a promise to each other at school that she would visit him one day to finally meet the little sister Raphael lives his whole life. How could she hurt him? So she hesitated, and got Caspar injured. Possibly killed, she's not sure. Not only that, but Bernadetta fled before anyone even detected her. Because if that lovable lug, Raphael, turned back and saw her even considering a shot at him — she would run even farther. She'd go all the way back to her bedroom and never leave it again.

This is cruel, what Byleth and Edelgard are making her do. Or maybe, it is cruel of Bernadetta to make herself so talented and good at something, like archery. Maybe this is her punishment.

Now, she is cornered. Lysithea and Ignatz have locked her into their pincer formation. They stand on either side of a small building with their weapons raised. If Bernadetta strays east from her cover, she will get obliterated with goddess knows what kind of magic, and if she moves west, she will be peppered with arrows.

She presses the curve of her bow along her forehead and clamps her eyes tight, praying. Goddess help her.

"Bernie!" a raspy shout snaps her concentration.

Bernadetta looks across the street — or rather, no man's land — and sees Hubert crouching behind a different building. His eyes are wide, pupils fully focused on her. Oh no, he is about to finally kill her, and when they toss her corpse onto the wagon, everyone will see her for the loser she really was…

"Snap out of it!" Hubert growls. "We do this together."

"What?" she gasps. "Hubert, no! I can't! I'm no good!"

Hubert shakes his head, and pushes out into no man's land, boots firmly planted wide. A flurry of dark magic spells blast out towards him and Bernadetta sees Hubert _laugh to himself_, sending back his own volley of spellwork. He takes several hits, but due to his own knowledge of the dark arts, he seems to sustain little damage.

That is until one spell, instead of morphing into one solid blob, it stretches into this amorphous dome, that arcs all around Hubert. His eyes widen in fear, and he throws his arms up to exercise some kind of ward spell, but it's too late. Tendrils fly from the dome and grip the boy by the chest, heels popping up as he's forcefully lifted from the ground.

Bernadetta has heard about this spell. It is only spoken of in whispers, only mastered by the needlessly cruel. No mage, no matter how smart or studious, has ever been able to uncover the methods of resisting the wrath of _Luna_. Everyone feels the same pain when struck by it, though mages like Hubert, who so proudly wield their miasmas and mires, are so foreign to the pain of real dark magic that they sometimes die from shock before the true pain sinks in.

His mouth agape, what little color there is in his complexion drains away, and his lips go blue, chattering as he limply hits the ground.

"Ignatz!" Lysithea calls out from where Bernadetta can't see. "I got the Emperor's stooge! Come over here and restrain him!"

Bernadetta cringes when she hears the foot falls of the archer fast approaching. If she hesitates any longer, they're going to take one of her only friends away, and when she goes back to Edelgard, she will have to look her in the eye and —

— no. No more, Bernie.

Bernadetta leaps onto the street, protectively standing in front of Hubert's prone form and raises her bow. Ignatz slides to a halt and does the same, his fingers a little faster than her. He aims right for her throat.

But he hesitates. Bernadetta doesn't. She thought she would, but instead, she finds what she wants and compulsively releases the arrow.

It soars across the street, and snaps Ignatz's bowstring in two. As the arrowhead drops onto his knuckle, Bernadetta's arrow continues its course and snaps the frame to his glasses. They fly off into the air and the boy drops everything in his panic.

Bernadetta clamps her eyes tight and rushes him, raising her silver bow above his head and clocking him in the noggin with it. He falls, leaving her face to face with Lysithea. The small thing growls and summons another spell, this one so strong that her cloak shimmers into the air. Bernadetta shuts her eyes and says her prayers when…. _Blip!_

Linhardt materializes directly between them and waves his staff once, and an incredible wind spell, Excalibur, sends the dark mage flat on her back.

"Lindhart!" Bernadetta yelps at the sight of him. "I thought you left me!"

"My apologies. Caspar's safe now at last," he murmurs, gently tilting his head to the right. "Is Hubert…?"

Before Bernie can speak, Hubert's bark cleaves through the sounds of war. "Get over here and heal me you tit!"

"Oops!" Lindhart rushes forward, leaving Bernadetta to tie down and restrain her former classmates. Her hands tremble as Lysithea's wrists. She's so young and — this still feels so wrong.

"Bernie!" Hubert barks, heaving himself back to his feet even though Lindhart isn't even halfway done with his recovery spell. "Find Dorothea. Lindhart, that's enough with me. Save your strength for Petra. She's dying."

Bernadetta freezes, and she's sure with her finger over Lysithea's pulse, that she feels the young girl tensen at that notion too. They're all so scared for each other, so why are they even fighting? "Petra's dying?" Bernadetta asks.

"Go!" Hubert shouts again. "I can handle this, thank you."

* * *

Ferdinand thinks hard as he guides Dorte towards the edge of the town. This is possibly the craziest idea he has ever had in his life, and it will probably get him killed. But it will make for a good story at least. The moment he catches wind of a wyvern's brown head peeking out over the rooftops, he tugs on Dorte's reigns and kicks.

Dorte moves fast. For a moment, Ferdinand's life does flash before his eyes.

They close in on a building quickly, and just before it becomes too late to turn back, Dorte leaps off the pavement and soars onto the low-lying rooftop.

"Hold," Ferdinand whispers, the horse obediently dragging its hooves against the shingles. All the while, Ferdinand lifts himself off of the harness, and with all the strength he has, leaps high in the air, pulling out his sword and swinging it —

…

— right into the neck of the incoming wyvern. The poor creature screams, and tumbles from the sky. Ferdinand almost slips off, but his foot manages to find his opponent's saddle. He fights for a grip in the foothold, and manages not to fall off and snap his neck on he pavement. But the wyvern is down for the count, and spirals through the air. When they do crash, it's Ferdinand's dangling leg that strikes the ground first. It twists out from under him and he tries to scream, but the leathery backside of the wyvern smacks his face into the pavement and for a second everything goes black.

When he comes to, his head is throbbing and everything is spinning. His left hand is bleeding, but has found a resting spot along one of the Derdriu shopkeeps. His right hand spins his rapier menacingly at the fiend who — oh, he thinks he's heard of this man. Nader. Bearded guy, doesn't lose battles.

Their blades clash and with each _bang! _of their iron, Ferdinand lurches back. His leg is surely broken. It's agony, too much for even a humble, noble final thought. His arm lashes at Nader mindlessly, and admittedly, Nader is crippled too probably. His swordwork is sloppy for a general of his stature.

If only Ferdinand were allowed to kill, this would be so easy. He knows just where to jab his sword to finish the job, but Edelgard doesn't want that, so Ferdinand doesn't want it either.

Ferdinand falls back, rapier falling to the ground, fingers twitching, arms too cramped to grab his back-up lance. Nader raises his ax high over his head, mouth agape in anticipation of the delight of the kill, when suddenly a black torrent of raw power surges from the north and decks the man in the hand. He promptly passes out in a heap.

Ferdinand falls, back sliding against the wall of the shop, his long locks catching against nails on the journey down. He gasps for air, and gazes up at the sun. It is bright today. It gives him hope. It was all for —

— the sun is quickly blocked out by Hubert's big dumb head. His dark eyes glower at the man, pale hands running along Ferdinand's cheeks.

"It worked," Hubert whispers. "You scared the entire army of wyverns off, Ferdinand."

Ferdinand gasps. "What?"

"Yes, yes. Rumors are already circulating of the crazy paladin leaping off rooftops, I'm sure. You're a hero. Now," Hubert claps Ferdinand on the shoulder. Hubert's speech is slower than usual. He appears to be waiting between Ferdinand's ragged breaths to speak. "You come home with us."

"No," Ferdinand moans. "Hubert, I'm — I'm done for."

Hubert furrows his brow. "No, you're not. You're going to come back to Garreg Mach with this wonderful little story, and never let any of us hear the end of it. Do you understand?"

Ferdinand's head goes limp, though he does try to shake it. "No, Hubert, I'm — I'm so sorry."

Hubert's lips purse to their very tightest. "I promise to have _tea_ with you every Sunday, if you decide to live."

"O-oh," Ferdinand looks up. He feels some control coming back to his arms. "Yes. I would like that."

"Good. Good soldier. Come."

Ferdinand slumps against Hubert's side, the mage's arm fully supporting his weight. "Hubert. Edelgard needs to call this off. We're going to get killed, no one can fight like this."

Hubert turns and his pupils dilate for a moment. One of those Hubert death stares. The one where you know he just calculated the money he needs to hire a spy to track you for the rest of your life. But instead Hubert sighs.

"I know."

* * *

Unlike Dimitri, the years have been kind to Claude. No longer the sly, slippery youth, he is broad-chested and gruff. Not exactly what Edelgard had been expecting. When hearing of his scheming, she always imagined him as his old self with the braided hair and lithe frame, but obviously that's not the case anymore. No one got the chance to stay the same because of her war.

"Hello, Edie," Claude sneers from atop his wyvern, fingers nocking an arrow into his bow. "I hate to be bleak but don't be stupid. I can kill you from right here." He raises the bow high, feathers of the arrow brushing his nose, to make the point.

"Claude. I'm not here to fight," Edelgard announces in her boldest of voices. She is somewhat surprised to find the Head of the Alliance unguarded. Likely from the successes of her men.

"Really? Well then what's the ax for?" he smirks.

"You know, Claude," Edelgard narrows her eyes. "I wanted to tell you that you look good, but honestly, you used to be a lot funnier."

"Ouch," Claude feigns a whimper and fires a warning shot. She evades it, but not from her own efforts. The arrow knocks one long white hair loose from her bun.

"Please, Claude. I'm not here to fight you. None of your men have died. I want to negotiate."

He shakes his head, his resting smile finally falling into a scowl. "How the Hell am I supposed to trust you after what you did, Edie?"

Another arrow and now she's on the move. She moves fast, twirling her ax to swat the arrows from the air. But everytime she closes the gap between him and her, his wyvern hops to the side. For that creature, one step is about twenty of hers. It moves in a circle, and she begins to lose her set of direction. Each hop, he fires an arrow. Except on the occasion that he feigns firing something, and instead darts in to slice her head open with his ax.

Somehow, she gets through it. Though again, it can't possibly be through her own effort. He's toying with her. He's not like Dimitri, the mad dog set off his leash. Claude is more like a cat, inclined to play with its prey before devouring it.

So what is Edelgard? How does she kill?

Heartlessly usually. Though her heart beats too fast right now, mind still clinging to its ideals, for her to even consider killing this man.

Edelgard tries to tell him about Raphael, about Hilda, about Lorenz, how they are all _alive_ and in safe captivity, but each syllable that escapes her lips is clipped by a grunt from another narrow evasion. It's only when she runs out of ideas does she finally allow her instincts to take hold. It's when Claude darts in to strike at her head. She raises her ax high and embeds it halfway through the wyvern's neck.

The screech is unbearable.

Blood goes everywhere. Claude rolls off the side, landing on his shoulder, screaming, hand lurching towards his wyvern, and probably, his friend.

She shouldn't have done that.

"Claude, I need you to listen to me and trust — "

Claude twists onto his back, bow falling onto his stomach. He pulls the arrow over his head and releases. It soars across their little arena and strikes her in the chest. Not enough to piece the armor but it does send her flat on her back. Before she can recover, he is on top of her, ax pressed to her throat.

This is far more like Dimitri.

"You know, we aren't that different," Claude's manic face drops into that sly grin again. He only ever smiles when he is in control. "We both hate the crest system and nobility. In fact, if you came to me earlier, before that Flame Emperor shit, I can guarantee we would have already won. _Because we wouldn't be at war_. So don't come to me, trying to convince me you don't want anyone to die. Enough have died on your watch, and today, it ends."

Edelgard is the Emperor. If she is to die, she is to say something for the historians to spread the word of. But she can't. She can't keep lying. He is right; war is Hell and it's by her hand that it happened. So let the ax fall.

…

The ax does fall, but it is slack. The broad side tumbles over her face and for a moment, she thinks it is another practical joke, but when she shoves it aside, she sees her Byleth dragging Claude over to the central pillar by the front of his tunic.

"T-T-Teach?! You're-you're alive?" Claude says, pausing when his back strikes stone. "Wh-what are you — your sword?"

Byleth steps a safe distance away and raises her sword non-threateningly, turning it over and over again in the light. After fifteen agonizing seconds drift past them, Claude frowns, finally understanding. "You're using training weapons? Edie, you weren't just lying to me?"

Edelgard gets to her feet. She looks to Byleth, but Byleth keeps her eyes glued on Claude. Though Edelgard will always appreciate Byleth's vigilance, she does wish she would look back at her right now. So Edelgard mirrors that soulless gaze and turns on Claude.

"It's been five years, Claude," Edelgard frowns. "I can't go anywhere without inciting violence. I want that to end. I want to talk this through, and I thought, I thought you would be the first of anyone to hear me out."

Claude closes his eyes. "Okay. So give it here. What do you want?"

Edelgard's chest rises and falls. She is usually not in the room for these sorts of negotiations. "You yield to the Empire."

Claude's eyes reopen. "That's impossible. Edie, I'm not the whole Alliance — "

"Quiet."

His eyes narrow. But he keeps his mouth shut this time.

"I am not asking you to take arms against Faerghus, or the Knight of Seiros. I am only asking that you yield to me."

"Ha," a smile creeps up Claude's cheek. "You make it sound like it's easy. Like we just roll on over and you get your way. But it's not like that, Edie. Do you know what people do to tyrants like you, Edie?"

Byleth reaches for her sword, but Edelgard's hand makes it to the sheath first. Byleth's hand is so warm, and Edelgard's is so cold. Like death. She wants to hold Byleth forever.

Claude continues, "The people will rebel. They will rebel against you, and anyone who follows you. History will remember you as — "

"Claude," Edelgard blurts out. "None of your people have died today. But some of mine have, I'm sure. Is this how you want to be rememb—"

"Good," Claude growls under his breath, again, holding onto that devilish smirk. "I'm glad they're dead."

Edelgard's cheeks flush in her rage. She takes one step forward, and now it is Byleth's turn to stop her advance. Edelgard draws back and releases a heavy breath. "I'm giving you a chance, Claude. Don't make me kill you."

Claude nods, eying the ground. Without looking at either of them, he says, "Show me. Show me my people. If what you say is true, and they're all alive, I'll do it."

Byleth reaches for Edelgard's hand, forcefully turning the Emperor to face her. _Don't do it_, her eyes say. _It's a trap._

Edelgard frowns. She whispers, "I don't know how else to convince him."

* * *

Rounding the Alliance soldiers up isn't easy. But eventually they find everyone. Be it unconscious soldiers lying in the streets, or the smart ones who cowered in the dark of an alleyway. They line them all before Claude, and he folds his arms together, mouthing words that are likely numbers. There is such attention in his gaze when he looks at these people because they are truly his friends.

Byleth knows many of them. Many of them are students who had lost things while schooling at Garreg Mach, and Byleth dutifully returned everything she found, which inevitably lead to many eye-opening conversations.

Ignatz is an artist from a merchant family, and he feels immense guilt over what happened to Raphel's parents.

Lorenz is a noble who thinks himself a ladies man. Surprisingly, he is a compassionate youth who knows how to read people.

Raphael loves to eat meat, and everything he does is in the name of his little sister, seeing how they have no living parents to support them.

Lysithea is a girl who is often underestimated due to her size, but one of the most powerful mages alive. She also likes sweets, and is scared of ghosts.

Marianne has a hard time talking to people because of her past. But she is far wiser from her lived experiences. She can do things no mage with his nose deep in a book can do.

Hilda is lazy, and cons people into doing chores for her. But that apparently comes from her older brother. She doesn't want to disappoint people. She just needs some self-confidence.

Leonie is — well — Byleth can't meet eyes with Leonie.

"That is everyone," Claude sighs. "I'm impressed, Edie. I think this is the first time you've told me the truth."

Edelgard nods her head, cautiously pacing back and forth.

All the while, Byleth scans the crowd for her people. Everyone seems okay, aside from Ferdinand who has taken quite the beating. She is a little concerned having him stay there on his horse. She almost approaches him to give him the okay to head back home, but she knows he'd refuse. Oddly enough, his eyes are glued to Marianne of all people.

When Claude says nothing, Edelgard finally speaks. "I want to shake on it with you. I trust that you will keep your word."

Immediately the crowd of Alliance soldiers becomes unruly, setting Lindhart and Hubert to work. Though their wards don't seem to affect the brewing havoc very much.

Leonie is the voice that pierces the crowd. "Claude, you can't do this! Remember what Edelgard has done! Remember Captain Jeralt, and Rhea, and — the villagers in Remire!"

Edelgard glances past her shoulder. "I did not — " she stops herself. It hurts Byleth in the chest. She wishes that Edelgard would just be frank about whatever is going on, but she looks back to Claude and though Byleth is only looking at the back of Edelgard's head, she can feel Edelgard's gaze burrow into her soul.

"Claude, what are you doing?" Hilda whimpers.

Claude brushes some of the hair from his eyes. "We're surrendering to the Empire. Edie here says that she'll kill us if we say no."

The crowd gets louder. Byleth finds it difficult to resist her sword. Though she does step forward, carefully walking past the restrained soldiers. As she passes by Lindhart, she notices his face beaded with sweat, all the color in his complexion drawn away into a deathly white.

This was a bad idea.

"Edelgard has decided now that she has the control over an entire Empire in the palm of her hand," Claude shouts. "That it's okay for her to change the rules of war. That it's all fine now since she's _initially _decided not to kill any of us."

Rocks and pebbles dance along the ground. Something is happening. Byleth's first instincts are to step back and scan the sky for more wyvern riders. That would be the obvious move. But she sees no such thing. The skies are clear.

Claude spreads his arms wide, fingers splayed out. He steps backwards, left hand casually drifting towards the handle to his upright ax embedded in the ground. It's all so obvious. But Edelgard stands perfectly still, and lets it happen.

"I almost want to let you live, Edelgard," Claude laughs from the darkest reaches of his chest. "I'd love to see you try this crap on Dimitri."

Byleth finally notices the disturbance — but of course by then it's too late. Black trails of dark spikes wisp from Lyisthea's hands. The same magic that again and again has bested even their Death Knight, and of course neither Lindhart or Hubert know a good Silence spell when they really need one.

The magic erupts from Lysithea's hands and knocks every Adestrian soldier off their feet. Black spikes dig into Byleth's chest, pinning her to the ground and making her scream. When the black mist pushes away, complete havoc has broken out again.

Though Petra, Lindhart, and Ferdinand are Byleth's biggest concerns, her heart tells her to run past it all, get to the bridge, and stop Claude from killing Edelgard. But when she pushes through a tousle erupting between Caspar and Raphael, it is Marianne of all people that stands in Byleth's way. Byleth unsheathes her sword, hoping that will be enough to scare the timid girl away.

"Professor," Marianne whispers. "You must go."

Byleth shakes her head.

"I'm sorry," Marianne frowns, and raises her hands, wincing. A cutting gale erupts from her palms. Like the wind before, it pushes Byleth back. But there is enough hesitation in Marianne that Byleth can at least hold her ground. Cuts and scratches pop all over her face and armor, and Byleth should just release. But it's only from here that she can at least see Edelgard go toe to toe with Claude.

She can never look away.

* * *

"All of Fódland is watching right now, Edie," Claude laughs as his ax just misses Edelgard's head. "Hell, the whole world is. People will talk about this battle for millenia."

"You never shut up, do you?" Edelgard growls, hand retreating to her back. This isn't what she wanted. But her hand still grips the handle of Aymr, hidden beneath her cloak. Once again, she knowingly instituted a double standard of her war. Of course she allowed herself the privilege of wielding something better than a toy intended for training.

The burning head of her ax clunks against the ground, and for a moment, she sees Claude hesitate.

"So you did come here to kill me then?" he laughs.

She hesitates. "I don't know."

"Huh, could've sworn bringing a deadly ax like that generally means you want to kill someone."

Edelgard steps closer and with one thunderous heave, cleaves her ax through the air. Claude casually jumps backwards, the sharp of her blade skimming his chest. But he let that happen, she's sure of it.

"Why are you here, Edelgard?" Claude chuckles. "You always read to me as someone to sit on high and bark orders. But you're on the battlefield, and boy, are you — " he pauses to dodge another swing. " — slow. I mean, do you have a death wish?"

She pulls her ax back, elbow arched high for a stab. Does she have a death wish?

"I'll tell you one thing," Claude frowns. "I was planning on throwing this fight."

She hesitates again. She knows it's a distraction but this catches her off-guard.

"If I die, and we yield to the Empire, it's safer for my people," he explains. "If I consciously say _yes_, we get destroyed together. People will hate me. But honestly, you — " Dodge. " — make it — " Duck. " — awfully hard — " Bob. " — to lose convincingly."

Edelgard pauses to catch her breath. All this armor tires her out fast.

But Claude stands upright and runs a hand through his hair, ax playfully tapping the cobblestone. "I guess I'll just have to kill ya, huh?"

He lunges at her, ax moving fast as spellwork. It's nearly impossible to keep up with. More rapier technique than anything. Yet he hits hard too, gradually pushing her back. All the while he laughs like he's skipping through a field of flowers. Edelgard steadies her grip and tries to go on the offense, which is exactly when he strikes her ax so hard that she completely pivots around.

Edelgard is shocked to see the wall of wind Marianne has thrown up to keep Byleth back. But still, her teacher stands, bracing herself against the wind, cape threatening to snap off her armor any second, cuts and scrapes smashing into the metal protecting her.

Edelgard's grip goes slack and she finds Byleth's eyes fast. "_I'm sorry_," she whispers, hoping that maybe Byleth will somehow hear her.

Byleth nods back. "_I understand._"

Oh Byleth.

Edelgard pivots and thrusts out her shield just in time to block what could have been a deadly swing to her neck. Still, Claude's silver breaches the shield and Edelgard tosses the busted up sheet of iron to the side.

The Crest Stone is in the satchel hooked to her waist. All that is in her way is a drawstring. Untie that and she can bear incredulous powers that can instantaneously end this conflict. There's just one problem:

Edelgard lied to Hubert.

She did not tell Byleth about the Stone.

It's possible that… maybe her becoming a monster will ruin Byleth's strategy. It could do more harm than good, and that just won't do.

Edelgard narrows her eyes. Upsetting the strategy is not her true concern, but what she is really feeling, she cannot say. They are feelings that can never be given voice, because Byleth hates Edelgard. She knows this. Her love will never be reciprocated.

Now is also not the day to die. Not to Claude of all people. So she steadies her grip again and advances fast.

Claude goes for the same approach again. Fast cuts made to confuse her. Nothing she can keep up with, so she hits _hard_. Knocks his ax way off course and it shoves his whole right arm behind him. He gasps and scrambles backwards, heaving all his might into another beheading.

Too bad for him that Dimitri has spent the past five years saying nothing more than, _I want her head_! Things like that tend to make one practice for evading such a thing.

Aymr comes from below, its curve crashing into the curve of Claude's ax, shooting it high into the air. Both of their arms stretch above their heads, dragging their bodies together. Edelgard feels Claude's breath plume into her face. Nearly hears his heart beat.

Edelgard grimaces, and Aymr burns. There's an explosion, and Claude's silver ax-head shoots clean off its handle, rocketing into the sky. It's enough of a spectacle that the cacophony behind them begins to dim. Edelgard can feel eyes begin to shift to her back.

The destroyed ax head lands behind her, embedded a half meter into the stone, part of the blade burnt away, smoke wafting off the tip. Claude raises the wooden rod to the air, but Edelgard cuts clean through it and without hesitation, drags Aymr across his palms.

He screeches and crumples to the ground, blood spilling all over. She lets her grip go limp again, and allows the head of Aymr to crash besides his cheek. Still burning.

It is completely quiet behind her now.

"Edie," Claude murmurs, voice scratchy like a rat. "Don't — c'mon. You need me."

Edelgard raises her eyebrow high.

"If you want Fódland, you'll need me. We want the same thing, Edelgard. Kill me, and you may get the territory, but you'll never get my people."

The most sincere thing he has ever said to her. Or…

"Claude, you always told people you were a schemer," Edelgard notes. "But never once did you use any of your poisons, or trick anyone. You're not like me. Why did you tell people that?"

He blinks in disbelief. "What?"

"Why would you allow people to think you were morally rotten when you weren't? What were you so afraid of?"

He bows his head. "You're not letting me go, are you?"

She nods gently… "No."

… and raises her ax high.

* * *

When Edelgard's burning relic hits the skyline, it catches the sun and reflects rays of light everywhere. It is blinding. So no one actually sees the ax fall. But they hear the _thump!_ when it strikes stone, and it's impossible to not hear the scream start and finish within that very same moment.

Edelgard's shoulders stay slumped, and Byleth notes that she shifts so that her body can at least obscure the mess she just made of Claude's skull.

Another blood curdling scream, and Byleth turns on her heel to see Hilda breaking from the crowd, eyes blurred with tears. Byleth sighs and draws her sword, briefly nodding at Marianne to step aside now. Thankfully, the shy girl obeys.

Byleth's sword clashes with Hilda's ax. It's not hard to hold the girl back. They are both tired, and in Hilda's grief, her swordplay is sloppy.

Though one swing does clash so close, that their heads are within an arms' length of each other. Byleth's arm quakes, threatening to snap in two.

Finding some sincerity, Byleth very intentionally looks at Hilda. "Back at Garreg Mach, I found a lost hair clip. I think it was yours. I would like you to live through this so I can return it. Would that be alright?"

Hilda promptly falls to her knees and that's that.

When Byleth pats the girl on the shoulder and looks back to her army, she sees necks craned up at the sky. Byleth follows their gaze and finds a storm of wyverns coming in from above. She readies herself for combat, but a soft whisper crinkles in her ear.

"_Don't."_

Edelgard's cheeks are stained with tears, eyes red. She touches Byleth's arm very carefully, as if frightened she might break it, and says, "I'm sorry."

"I heard you earlier," Byleth says back. "It's okay."

* * *

The wyverns land across the rooftops, and perched on top of each of them are men in black cloaks and pointed masks. They all wield bows and aim arrows at each of the Alliance members. Except for one of the mages. One of them just stares at Edelgard through the blank eye sockets. Edelgard needn't unmask him to know his true identity though.

Thales lied. He said he would leave them alone, keep their communications indirect, but of course that was just a ruse to see how far she would stray from his… ideals. It makes her want to scream, but all eyes are on her now.

All of the Golden Deer students are sobbing, aside from Lysithea, whose face is sallow and drained, eyes hazy. She overworked herself with that final spell. Edelgard quickly takes the moment to find Dorothea's eyes and like always — the girl is there for her, still tending to Petra. Lysithea's pain will have to wait…

Byleth takes Edelgard's hand. "_Did you know?"_ she means to say.

Edelgard is supposed to say, "_Yes."_ Byleth is just her tactician after all. Nothing more.

Edelgard squeezes Byleth's hand back. "_No,"_ she chokes, then steels herself and marches towards the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a newsletter where I do updates on my professional writing career and other fun gay stuff! Check it out.  
https://tinyletter.com/unapologeticallymeatwad


	4. Clinking Glasses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between this chapter and the last, I finished Azure Moon. What a game, man. Now I've done everything but Silver Snow, which I don't plan on doing. 
> 
> I'm replaying Crimson Flower right now on Maddening and hoo-wee, it's a lot. 
> 
> Thank you for your readership as always. It means the world to me.

Sometimes Byleth is content with their headquarters being in Garreg Mach, sometimes not. Today is one of the days where she is not happy with the arrangement. Apparently, Jerralt's office was left sealed away the five years she was asleep, because it's just as she remembered it, which is a bit too much for her on some days.

So she opens the door and goes directly across the hall into Seteth's old office, expecting to see Hubert there but instead finding Edelgard.

Edelgard looks up from a sheet of paper and blushes immediately; her hair is down. Byleth hasn't seen Edelgard's gorgeous hair down since the old days. Though her friend still wears the crimson imperial gown.

"Um, hello, professor," Edelgard smiles softly, reaching behind her back to at least push the white locks past her shoulders. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee? Hubert was a little over-zealous in making me an entire pot. I don't think he realizes yet that I don't like coffee as much as he and… well, it makes him happy." She gently presses a glass candy dish closer to Byleth's hand.

Byleth carefully takes a second mug of coffee and inspects it. She's never had any before. Though if Edelgard likes it, it is probably good. The second it makes contact with her tongue though, she winces. It's like dirt.

Edelgard giggles at what is apparently a very funny face on Byleth. "Have some cream. It helps, I promise."

Byleth complies. It does help.

"I'm happy you're here, though I'm sure you were expecting to talk to Hubert," Edelgard says, eyes shining with pride. "It surprises me that the two of get along so well. Correct me if I'm wrong, but he used to follow you around and threaten to kill you every month, correct?"

Byleth nods. She used to despite Hubert for his constant threats, and never really took him seriously. It was not until what happened in the Holy Tomb occurred did she understand why he did that. The two of them have a lot more in common with each other now.

Edelgard laughs at again, what is apparently Byleth's silly face. "Everything has been so stressful, and I know Hubert has a reputation. I figured staying here today might get me away from everyone."

Byleth nods. She's not really sure what to say. She sets the mug down, keeping her hands on the round glass. It's warm to the touch. It may be her favorite part of the coffee, since the taste to her is so poor.

Edelgard presses her lips together. This happens often between them. The silences, that is. Byleth doesn't mind them, but Edelgard seems so hurt whenever they come across. Always second guessing the nature of their friendship, that one. Byleth tells her again and again, _I am happy I walk this path with you,_ but it never seems to really land.

In the silence, Byleth leans forward to peek at what Edelgard is working on, but the Emperor quickly slaps her hands across the parchment.

"Please don't look at that," Edelgard frowns. "It's — private."

Byleth leans back. She won't comment, but she's sure it's a letter for Dimitri. Probably not a good idea. That friendship is a lost cause now. But she's not the one to tell Edelgard that.

"There are some things I wanted to talk about with you, actually," Edelgard winces. "About things that people have been saying about me. I've left you in the dark for a long time, Professor, and it would only be right for me to clear some of it up."

Byleth tilts her head to the side. She's actually been more content _not_ knowing at this point. After everything that has happened, it's easier that way.

"Leonie… I've stopped by the dungeons once or twice, and she keeps accusing me of killing Jeralt, and I know how it looks! I know that you saw me and Monica together a lot before…" Edelgard's eyes glaze over for a second. "... but please believe me when I say I didn't know."

Byleth bites her lip.

"I knew about Monica," Edelgard looks away. She can tell this was a bad idea. "Thales told me that Kronya was planted to secure us getting the Crest Stones — but I think he did it so he could keep an eye on me. He's never trusted me. That's why his forces showed up at Deirdru."

Byleth still doesn't understand this Thales figure, and why Edelgard puts up with him. To her, it seems that he's the causation of everything she has suffered.

"I think — I think Kronya killed Jeralt so that you wouldn't trust me," Edelgard looks at Byleth so desperately now. _Look at me, damnit, _the words live in her eyes. "The same thing with Remire. I believe they chose those targets because they knew how much you meant to me — " she pauses, blushing again. " — look, Thales despises that we are working together. Because he knows what we can do."

Some of that old resolve comes back now. She lifts her head so regally, and the voice that slips out becomes cold. "We will destroy Those Who Slither in the Dark, Byleth."

_But why haven't we already done that?_ Byleth wants to ask. _Why isn't that where we started?_

"H-have I hurt you?" Edelgard asks.

Byleth shakes her head, but soon catches that she is crying. "Sorry," Byleth bites her lip and looks away.

Edelgard leans forward, reaching across the table, hand gently combing through Byleth's hair. Byleth leans into it because it's nice. No one touches her like that. People say nice things to her every day at Garreg Mach, about how attentive she is, how smart she is, how _everything_ she is, but they never get close.

"Are — " Edelgard hesitates. " — are you still confident in your decision to stay with me?"

Byleth's head jerks upwards and so much emotion floods into her eyes. "_Never,"_ she means to say, but she chokes in her disbelief at even being asked the question. Though the correct feelings seem to register in Edelgard's eyes at least.

It's then that the door opens and Hubert slinks in, shutting the door behind him. "Apologies for interrupting, Your Majesty," he closes his eyes tight, likely because of the high emotions running through the room. "But there is a riot in the dungeons. I think it would be best if you talk to their leader."

Edelgard frowns, hand twitching, fingers shaking into Byleth's scalp several times before retracting back into its claw-like grip on the table. "Hilda?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Hubert opens his eyes, sensing that the intimacy has passed. "It's Lysithea. She's missing."

"What?!" Edelgard gets up with a start, knocking several of Hubert's desk supplies over.

Hubert's eyes narrow at the disturbance to his organization, but he keeps it professional. "Kidnapped possibly. They're blaming you, Your Majesty. Please talk to them."

* * *

The voices of Edelgard's fellow peers echo down the underground halls of Garreg Mach. Hubert greatly advised against dragging the Golden Deer kids into the dungeon, but she was just so angry after the fight. Apparently Claude had asked all of them to join forces with her in the wake of his death, but all of them were just so — rowdy. She despised it, so she locked them away on a whim. Because they will kill her if given the chance, she's sure of it.

But now that she hears their roars and rumbles of her former peers, Edelgard knows that she made a mistake once again. The torchlight casts a scary, orange glaze over these familiar faces, their eyes all directed at her, twisted in anger. They look at her like she is some kind of murderer — which — she might as well be at this point.

This war has drifted so far away from abolishing the Crest systems. Now, it just feels like personal vendettas. That's her fault. She must own that.

Her soldiers cower in the wake of the Golden Deer. lances raised but their aim unsteady. They embarrass Edelgard so much. She points at the exit, hissing at them to leave. When finally the space is private, she looks Hilda directly in the eyes.

"Quiet down all of you!" Edelgard shouts and finally the mob seems to simmer down. She winds back her shoulders and steels herself.

"Where is Lysithea, Edelgard?" Hilda marches right up to the bars, chest bumping against the iron.

Edelgard furrows her brow. This must be some form of trap. She is not budging for them. "What do you mean? We brought her here a week ago. I'm not falling for any of your tricks."

"There are no tricks, Edelgard," Raphael steps forward, palming Hilda gently on the shoulder. "Lysithea was our night watch, but when we woke up this morning she was gone."

"Gone?" Edelgard lets that dangle in the air. This Raphael boy seems earnest; they all do in fact.

It is not possible that Lysithea was able to break out on her own, not in the poor health she left herself in after the battle. Edelgard blames herself for that; she hadn't realized how sickly one can become from such an abuse of the power of twin crests.

"I'm telling you guys," Leonie mutters from the shadows in the back, sitting on a bench by her lonesome. "Edelgard kidnapped her just like she did Flayn."

Edelgard snaps, "I did not kidnap — "

"But you knew about it!" Leonie gets up and steps into the light, an ugly set of scars nearly crossing her left eye. "And Captain Jeralt — "

"_I didn't know about Jeralt_!" Edelgard screams and quickly covers her mouth. She shouldn't have said that. Hubert will send for help now, but she really needs to handle this alone. Her voice drops in volume, and she gets far closer to the bars than she ever should. "Fine. I knew about Flayn, yes. But it wasn't under my orders, alright? And I made sure that she wasn't hurt the entire process!"

Edelgard glares the commoner down, but the cocky Leonie just smirks right on back. "Are you saying you aren't really the _Flame Emperor_ then, Edelgard?"

Edelgard snaps and an argument ensues. Not a very complicated one, mostly her deflecting. While her gaze shifts from Hilda to Leonie and occasionally Lorenz, her mind drifts.

This is remarkably similar to what happened with Flayn, and like Flayn, Lysithea has rare blood. It's possible that… Thales would have informed her, wouldn't he? No. Perhaps not. She lost that connection when she foolishly snapped at Thales in the boardroom.

But Lysithea already has two crests — what more could they possibly want? A third? Two is enough to kill someone.

Edelgard doesn't notice it, but her knees start buckling. The argument simpers down, and now it is mostly staring from her prisoners. She wipes a line of snot from her nose and jabs an accusing finger at Leonie. "You are trying to trick me! I run a far tighter ship than Rhea — _there was no kidnapping_. That would never happen under my watch! You just want me to go on a wild goose chase while she — "

"Edelgard," Hilda reaches out and touches Edelgard's shoulder. Immediately, Edelgard withdraws, sinking lower to the floor. "We just want our friend back."

Edelgard's entire reasoning for going to war was to prevent the tragedy that ravaged her childhood from crossing anyone else's path. But now it's happening again. Because of her, and she is powerless to stop it.

The Golden Deer kids are speaking to her, but the words smudge together. They all sound so far away, their sounds pointed but nonsensical. Edelgard's heart beats so fast, she's afraid that all of a sudden it might just stop, and there is this cutting pain in her temple. Her hands fall to the floor and spread across the dirt, pebbles falling behind her nails. For some reason, this makes sense.

"Edelgard… are you alright?" Hilda stutters.

"Leave me alone," Edelgard spits back, mouth tired because before she thinks she was mumbling some chant under her breath. She feels so cold inside, like she might die.

Leonie stands tall over her, puffing out her chest. "While you're here, _Emperor_, I wanted to ask you if you killed our Professor — and turned her into one of those… _things_ — like Solon and Kronya — because the Professor I knew would never — "

The cold becomes hot and an unspeakable rage bubbles in Edelgard's chest. Slowly, she rises again. She wishes that she brought her ax with her, but alas, her hands will have to do for this.

" — ha! You're so transparent, Edelgard," Leonie cheers. "Easier to crack open than a nut."

Edelgard's hands slip through the gaps in the bars, and claw at Leonie's throat, dragging her forward, rattling the girl's body against the bars. Good. She likes that sound, likes that feeling of her unflinching hold over this pest. Edelgard bares her fangs and bellows the words, "_I am not like them! Stop saying that, stop saying that!"_

Leonie's chest hits the metal again, and quickly the girl becomes battered. It's not long before Raphael manages to squeeze his fist through the gap, and he lands a solid punch on Edelgard's face. But Edelgard stays put, continuing to strangle the life out of Leonie, all the while the strongest Golden Deer strikes her again and again.

It ends with Leonie on the ground, clutching her throat and coughing, with Edelgard trying to wrench herself free from Ferdinand and Hubert's hold on her.

* * *

"I released our former classmates," Hubert says a half hour later with no sign of the disturbance in his eyes, though it is mournful how downcast he is at the visage of her majesty's bruised face. It is obvious that he blames himself. How is she to convince him that it is not?

"That is a good idea," Edelgard gazes into her lap, feet dangling off of the chair. She is so short. She's sure that if she weren't kidnapped and left to rot in that dungeon while they cut open her flesh night after night, that she would have grown to be taller. She wouldn't feel like such a child. She hasn't been able to think of anything else since she was torn away, screaming, from her own dungeon.

"They aren't leaving though, Your Majesty," Hubert coughs. "They said they won't leave without Lysithea."

"How admirable," Edelgard laments. She does not know what to say next, so she just sits there uselessly.

Hubert looks off to the side. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but what are your orders?"

"I must speak with Thales at once," Edelgard sighs.

Hubert bites his lip. "But Your Majesty, I understand why you would think that, the suspicions have crossed my mind as well. But what if you're wrong? Think of how that could damage our relationship with — "

"Lysithea is like me, Hubert," Edelgard fights off the tears and tries harder to stay strong this time. "If I'm right — this is exactly why we're fighting this war. I have to save her."

Hubert frowns. "With all due respect, this is war. We cannot make sacrifices for the life of one person."

Edelgard shakes her head and leaps off of the chair, preparing herself immediately. "You misunderstand this war then. We aren't fighting to win."

He raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"We are fighting to save people. I'm growing tired of outlining military strategies so that we can obtain better vantages to kill our friends. I want to do something good today. Please allow me that."

Hubert frowns for a moment, but after some consideration, it shifts into a smile. His eyes gleam with some sense of pride. Possibly because this leaves more murderous schemes for him to enact, or possibly because he actually understands what Edelgard says. It is likely the latter, with a splash of the former, knowing him.

Edelgard nods. "I will be departing within the hour. Find Petra, and tell her to prepare her wyvern for flight. I must find the Professor."

* * *

The ruins in the Sealed Forest were never discreet. Though not the true home to Those Who Slither in the Dark, Edelgard knows not where those lie, Thales has always enjoyed hovering so near to her, constantly reminding her of the control he possesses. When Edelgard informed him that her army was to be based out of Garreg Mach, he laughed so hard that his voice became hoarse.

He must think so little of her.

It's his laughter that drifts through her nightmares. It never ceases.

Edelgard steps off of Petra's wyvern and holds a hand out to stop the Brigid woman from following her. "Petra, I admire your loyalty, but you must stay back here. I do this myself."

Petra's eyes do not waver. "Edelgard, I must attend this meeting."

Edelgard holds her gaze for a long time, considering her. Petra is one of her most loyal and yet she still hasn't fully gifted her trust to her. Sometimes, she thinks that Petra is keeping an eye on her like any spy would. Petra likes war, enjoys the thrill of battle, but she seems so distant from Edelgard's ideals, unlike the others who endlessly talk about the cruelty of the Crests system. Petra sulks in corners.

"I would prefer it if you stayed behind," Edelgard shakes her head. "We may have been followed."

"But Edelgard," Petra stutters. "I want to go in. You owe me much to me, don't you?"

Edelgard frowns. She does owe Petra quite a bit, considering her unwilling move to Fodlan. But nevertheless, Thales is her uncle and she knows that she will be weak in his presence. She mustn't allow the others to see this.

"No, I am sorry," Edelgard says. "I will hear no more of this."

Behind Petra, Byleth also dismounts, not even bothering to pay attention to the unfolding dialog. She brushes herself off and steps forward as if nothing Edelgard says counts for her.

"That goes for you, too, Professor," Edelgard frowns.

Byleth frowns back, throwing her hands on her hips. Probably too lazy to speak, she just makes a pouty face. Said pouty face is also one of Edelgard's weaknesses.

"Oh, fine, you two may come," Edelgard sighs, Byleth immediately stepping in front of her and yanking her sword from the sheath, staring down the foreboding entrance to Thales' lair.

"Oh, no professor!" Edelgard laughs, patting the girl on the shoulders. "I'm not worried about _that_ per say. My uncle would never..."

Byleth raises an eyebrow.

Edelgard squeezes a bulging vein in her temple. "Why am I frightened then? Well, we have a history like you know. But he'd never raise a hand to me." Byleth doesn't seem satisfied with her explanation, so under her breath, so Petra can't hear, Edelgard mumbles, "He's already done that."

It's still not enough. Byleth keeps her sword drawn, and Edelgard is personally too tired to object any further. So they head inside the lair. It's actually her first time showing up uninvited, and also without her Flame Emperor garb. It's odd. Some of the mages that pass by them nearly stop in place, staring at her for so long.

Likewise, she stares back with the same feeling. No one wears a mask when there is no company, and the visages she witnesses are disturbing to say the least. It reminds her of the Crest Stone rattling in her satchel, how if she just touched it, even for a second, she might become like them. Possibly worse.

One such mage is so warped beyond recognition, that Byleth actually reaches back to take Edelgard by the hand. It's almost embarrassing how much this quiet girl cares for her. Not only is Byleth her teacher, her strategist, her love, but she's also her knight. It's touching moments like these that make Edelgard wonder if all of Hubert's empty threats early into their school year came from jealousy.

When things settle down, Edelgard intends to tease Hubert about this. Ferdinand and Edelgard like to play a game sometimes that is called, _Who Can Make Hubert Blush the Hardest?_ Many of them end in a draw, or rather, with Hubert winning.

The lair itself is dark, only lit by a scant few torches. The cult members dwelling within have likely lived in the dark for so long, that the shadows pose little threat to them. Occasionally, Edelgard's eyes wander over the splotches on the walls that are fully visible. The lair appears to be a hollowed out tree, gray and dying, reinforced with stone and cement to keep its structure intact.

"Ah, the rumors are true," Thales' voice echoes off the curved walls. It takes a moment for Edelgard's eyes to find him, but there he stands, white face piercing through the black. "I am displeased that you have come without invitation. We have discussed this in great detail."

His blank eyes shift over her two companions. "Why, if it isn't the dear old Professor! So happy you could make it, and you! Petra Macneary. Deepest regrets for what recently transpired in Brigid. May the deceased be avenged for the Sins of the Goddess… or maybe, that's just propaganda I created. Maybe I orchestrated the whole thing."

A light goes off in Petra's eyes and she takes one threatening step forward. It's only when Edelgard stands fully in the woman's way does she stop. "_We'll talk about it later,_" Edelgard hisses. The last thing she needs is her men realizing how even their allies are truly against them.

"No more of your mind games, Uncle," Edelgard shouts, her voice even louder than his.

A quiver in Thales wrinkled lips. "So you have come here to ask for a favor, I presume? I don't know why else you might call me Uncle — you of all people must know that I have been inhabiting his form since before you were born. It's not as if we have any true relationship."

There is a pulsating rising from Byleth's body. Possibly, she is about to erupt in a rage. Edelgard cannot allow that, so she grips Byleth by the arm, though she purposefully steps ahead of her too. Edelgard must be brave right now. It is difficult when Thales behave so wrecklessly.

If either Petra or Byleth were to see Edelgard's face now, they would know she's just as angry as they are, if not more.

"You broke into Garreg Mach," Edelgard says accusingly. "You kidnapped Lysithea von Ordelia, and as we speak, are conducting horrific blood experiments on her, aren't you?!"

Edelgard's lips tremble. Her eyes are dry, but still they produce tears. The skin around her nostrils has been rubbed raw by tissues prior, and now seathes as snot drips down into it. She shakes in place and hopes that Thales does not notice.

But Thales stares at her for so long that it would be impossible for him not to. Finally, he lazily gestures at the air. "You think so little of me. Lysithea von Ordelia… hm… ah! Yes. I remember her. Born without a Crest, but gifted a Minor Crest of Charon, _and_ a Major Crest of Gloucester."

"Do not talk about her like that!" Edelgard snaps. "She is not some art piece, she is a human."

"Ha, projecting much?" Thales drawls. "But no, I don't recall ordering a kidnapping. Besides, we inadvertently shortened that girl's' lifespan. Not worth our time for further experimentation, given all I could really want from such a thing is to gift her a third Crest." He pauses, dreamily gazing up at the dark ceiling. "Perhaps I would gift her yours. You don't seem to appreciate the Crest of Flames I pumped into you."

Edelgard flinches, knuckles squeezing. More and more color draining from her complexion. "Stop joking around, Thales, I'm serious! You will return Lysithea now!"

"Or what?" Thales sneers. "You'll attack me with your pitiful army? What good that will do you. I have an idea as to how we can _peacefully_ arrange her return — unless you have a problem with that. For you see, I am remarkably dissatisfied with the results of a former test subject…"

Edelgard's jaw tightens so hard it clicks. Not again. She can't go back there again. She doesn't care if it would mean instantaneously winning the war again, she's not strong enough for that.

Thales laughs. "Don't fret, Emperor, I do not mean you. I am of course speaking of Flayn, the little girl you failed to keep your silly students away from."

The clamminess in Edelgard's stomach does not yet go away. "Thales, I regret to tell you that Flayn died when the Knights of Seiros returned to take back Garreg Mach."

In her peripherals, Byleth noticeably falters. Perhaps it is regret? Immediately upon returning from the dead, Byleth had slain both Flayn and Seteth. Had Edelgard asked too much of her teacher?

"On the contrary, Edelgard," Thales says. "Your Professor spared not just Flayn but her wretched Father — don't make the face, you cannot convince me you honestly thought they were brother and sister."

Edelgard quits gaping. In reality, she is more impressed that Byleth had the tact to let a child survive the war. She shakes her head and in a soft voice adds, "No. Not that at all. Um. We will bring you Flayn. In exchange, no blood experiments until then. Where are they?"

Byleth turns again and offers a withering gaze at her Emperor.

But Edelgard does not falter. Retrieving Flayn will buy them time.

"Information has it that they currently reside on Rhodos Coast. You find her, bring her to me alive, and I will give you the Ordelia girl."

It is difficult for Edelgard to not acknowledge how upset she is making Byleth, but she holds herself strong and bows her head. "It will be done."

* * *

The wretched inhuman creature, Thales, waits five long agonizing minutes before he turns towards the shadows. He smiles at his little fly on the wall "Was that a satisfactory performance?" he drawls, mind already wandering to other places.

"No," Felix says darkly, finally pulling his back free from the mossy wall. Before the war, he loved waiting in dark corners. It made use of his skillset. When the war began, he knew he would be of use, but after five years of fighting, he grows tired of it. It feels cheap to lurk where he cannot be seen, to kill, almost for sport. But it's what his King asks of him. "It was pitiful," Felix sneers. "Be thankful His Majesty is not paying you in coin."

"Ha," Thales cackles, sizing up the Fraldarius warrior. "I heard that you possess quite the lip. It is fun for me to be scolded by someone who is so…_ lesser_. I am surprised that Dimitri tolerates you. Or has he already threatened to take off your head too?"

Felix furrows his brow. Though he carries much disdain for Dimitri nowadays, his mere name from the mouth of such a monster is — unacceptable. To say the least. "You will call him by his title, gnave."

"No, thank you," Thales smiles.

Felix stays still, considering unsheathing his sword. But that would reflect poorly on him if his King were to find out. "Tell me about Edelgard. Her behavior wasn't normal. Obviously, she's terrified of you. What did you do?"

Thales tilts his chin up, as if he were truly considering Felix worthy enough to know such sealed away information. "It is truly wondrous how little the King of Faergus knows of his cherished Edelgard. If what you are asking me is if I am the true orchestrator of all this," he limply waves a hand towards the darkness. "Then the answer is yes."

Felix narrows his eyes. This makes so little sense to him. Why is Dimitri knowingly working with this cur? "The Tragedy of Duscur. Was that you too?"

"Yes."

"Does Dimitri know?"

"By now he should," Thales shrugs. "His hatred for Edelgard blinds him though. Ha! To think, he blames her? She was thirteen years old and rotting in my dungeons, and yet — Heavens," he wipes a tear away from his cheek. " — why, I didn't know this form could still shed tears. How lovely. Now tell me, boy, are you reconsidering your allegiance to your King?"

Felix frowns. He pushed the brute too far, and now questions he would rather not answer are pursuing him. He looks at the ground. "I do not believe the Boar King is of sound mind. He assigns me tasks that haunt me late in the night. But will I leave him? No."

Thales seems taken aback. "But he has struck a deal with me of all people. He should loathe me, yet he uses me for blood."

"His Highness… _Dimitri_... doesn't understand that, I am sure. He's too focused on Edelgard to be a true frien—pardon me. Slip of the tongue. I meant to say _King_," Felix pales. All this instability has made him too loose at the tongue. He needs to be more careful. "If I go, Sylvain and Ingrid will follow. That would destroy His Highness. Therefore I stay."

"Of course," Thales grunts, as if nothing Felix said was of consequence. He turns away. "Just remember your end of the deal. Once your pitiful King slays his hated foe, you will deliver Flayn to me. Is that understood?"

Felix's hands dance across the hilt to his sword. Five years ago, at the very notion of such an idea, he would have cut the man down. But complacency has made him weak. He bows instead.

"Understood."

* * *

"This is my natural hair color," Edelgard explains as she emerges from behind a tree, dressed in commoner robes. Apparently, Edelgard has learned enough magic from Hubert that she is able to pull off a transformation like this. If you squint, you can see stray white hairs buried under the brown, but apparently, this is what Edelgard would have looked like had it not been for the experiments.

Drawing the hood over her head, she gazes so intently at Byleth. "Don't make that face at me, Professor. I know we should immediately head back to the monastery, but Petra says she needs an hour to scope out the area for spies and rather than wait for her in hiding, I think it could be fun for us to do something different."

Byleth sighs. She admits, the idea of spending extra time with Edelgard with her original brunette locks, is pleasing to her. But going to a tavern in Remire? That's risky.

She feels nervous the second they step into the tavern. It is full of hungry looking men. Men that would kill for a chance at a job. Scrubby men who would pillage towns for corrupt nobles. Men that Byleth was hired by other nobles to kill for a time. Then she would go back to the taverns with Jeralt and drink.

It's different with Edelgard though.

Edelgard leans against the counter and asks for some mead. Something about a drunk Edelgard is exciting, so Byleth keeps her hand at her sword, thumping her back to the counter and looking over at Edelgard very seriously.

"Ugh, professor, please don't treat me like this," Edelgard rolls her eyes. "You remind me of Dedue in these moments."

Byleth snorts and her stoic composure melts away for a second.

"I knew you would find that funny," Edelgard laughs, lifting the mug of mead to her lips, hood falling back, revealing her hair. She looks so different like this. Before, Byleth found the white hair highly attractive, but now knowing what it spawned from? It churns her stomach. This brunette Edelgard is so… human. She's just any other girl right now.

An urge seizes her — they could run away like this. Edelgard is positively unidentifiable, and Byleth is just a nameless sword for hire.

Edelgard smiles, hardly aware of Byleth's thoughts. "Do you drink, professor? Please. It's on me."

Byleth sighs, and begrudgingly gets some mead to match with Edelgard. They clash mugs and drink up. Immediately, Byleth feels the effects of the mead on her heart. Though she has no heartbeat, she does feel an incredulous talon reach through her stomach and grip her by the chest, squeezing until everything feels warm inside. It's like floating.

Edelgard laughs, she herself, a little loopy. "Professor, I wanted to ask you about something."

Byleth frowns. She can't talk about Thales right now. She knows Edelgard needs to get the trauma of it off her chest, but the very idea of that man makes her so angry…

"Don't worry, it's not about Thales," Edelgard sighs.

"You're so good at reading me," Byleth smiles back, speaking out loud for possibly the first that day. It might be the mead.

Byleth never found herself to be expressive. Before Garreg Mach, she had many troubles with communicating. But somehow, Edelgard always knows just what's on her mind. It's part of the reason she's stayed around for so long.

"I wanted to talk to you about Dimitri," Edelgard blushes. "I know you saw the letter I was writing."

Byleth blushes. She's also gotten less sneaky in the past few years. She just lowers her guard so much around the Emperor.

Truth be told, Byleth knows little of Dimitri. She has heard whispers of the Mad King of Faergus, waging war on the battlefield himself. But from what little she knows of Dimitri from her time as a Professor, nothing she hears correlates with that soft spoken young man. But then again, Edelgard isn't anywhere closer to being the snooty noble she had her figured for.

"Dimitri has put me on a pedestal as the bane of his whole life," Edelgard sighs, fingers drumming the glass nervously. "We spent a year together in our youth. I have never mentioned this before but we are step-siblings. His step-mother is my birth mother. Though I did not know when I met him that he was royalty, nor he, me.."

Byleth leans in. "Was this before..."

"Y-yes," Edelgard stutters. "Anyways, I taught Dimitri how to dance. He was very bad at it, and admittedly, I was very mean to him. When, um, my uncle — Thales — made me go away, Dimitri gifted me a knife. It was so I could use it to cut my own path. But now… now he hates me. Dimitri believes that I am the one responsible for the Tragedy of Duscur."

Byleth just stares blankly. She's not sure what Edelgard is getting at. Though Edelgard has never talked about this before, Dimitri has already spread his accusations to the people of Faerghus. Thousands believe those lies, and as such, the war has been more difficult on their side of things. It is hard to have diplomacy when people label you a monster.

Finally, Edelgard releases whatever tension is in her throat. "I was thinking of writing him to… apologize. For whatever it is I did to him that made him believe me to be so capable of such atrocities. Does that sound like a good idea?"

Byleth frowns. She starts to say, "_I think it's too late, El,_" but a disturbance interrupts things.

A burly hand claps on Edelgard's shoulder and the girl flinches, body drawing inward for a moment. But once she realizes it's no threat, she cautiously turns to face the man. He has high cheekbones and razor sharp blonde hair, long locks contained by a green bandana. He's a bandit by the looks of it.

Behind him stands a leaner man with bushy eyebrows. They presumptuously drag two chairs over to their little table.

"I knew it was you!" the blond one cheers, raising a mug to the air. "Do you remember me, girlie?"

"Don't call me that," Edelgard growls, shoving the man's big mitten off her.

The blonde one frowns. "Aw, don't remember Batta the Beast, eh? Well, five years ago, I thinks, you was here. You beat up my friend, Glass, here, and told the whole stinkin' tavern you wanted to hire a guy for a job."

"Oh," Edelgard pales, a panic coming into her eyes. She looks at Byleth for help, mouthing that they ought to go.

Batta the Beast pushes Edelgard's shoulder again. "Yeh, and you hired our friend Kostas, but he didn't come back so I suppose he died, huh?"

"Yes, he — erm — did," Edelgard frowns.

Batta the Beast laughs and pounds his chest. "Well, me and my friend, Glass, here, we needa job and I was thinkin' maybe you could hire us! You got any more Nobles you need offed? Heh."

The lean one leans in and pinches Edelgard's hand daintily, kissing her knuckle. "Hello. I am Glass. The Gods fear my name."

The kiss is a little much. Byleth aggressively steps between Edelgard and these two knuckleheads, sword slid one inch out from the sheath. May that be enough to scare them off. Regrettably, it isn't. Batta the Beast laughs and runs his chapped knuckle over Byleth's cheek. "Oh, you tryna scare us, toots? That ain't gonna work. Lissen. You owe it to us, lady."

"I don't owe you a damned thing," Edelgard narrows her eyes. "Come on, Professor. Let's go somewhere else."

Glass side-steps around the table, blocking Edelgard's exit. He licks his lips and pulls out a dagger. "You ain't goin' anywhere till you hire us to kill those fancy, schmancy nobles you despise so much. I mean, because Kostas screwed up, the blondie became King, huh?"

Edelgard smirks. "You want me to hire you to kill King Dimitri? Ha. Honestly, I would pay anything to see that."

Glass rumbles and loses his composure, darting at Edelgard with his dagger held. Of course, he's sloppy. Some lazy drunk from Remire. Edelgard spares no effort in avoiding his blows. Though the longer his onslaught goes, the more Byleth recognizes something in his movements. Glass barely seems in control of himself.

Even the Batta the Beast is unnerved. "Hey, Glass, take it easy there, man."

But Glass doesn't do that at all. He reels back and screeches at Edelgard, skin pulled taut around his wide mouth, eyes going blank. He moves faster now and it forces Edelgard's hand. She snatches the dagger from his trembling hand and jabs it into his throat.

Glass stares at her blankly, and for a second, he droops. But somehow, despite his chest being caked in blood, he finds a second wind and drags the dagger out of his throat as if it were nothing. Blood empties across his chest and he darts at Edelgard again.

Glass moves far faster than Edelgard is capable of, but his slashes are made blindly. Nothing comes close to hitting her. Byleth steps forward to put the man out of his misery, but once her sword is fully drawn, Glass falls face first to the floor, finally dead.

"Shit," Batta the Beast groans from behind. "Um. Back when that virus spread over here in Remire, Glass was one of the victims. After the Knights of Seiros helped us out, Lady Rhea came and cured everyone. Though I guess she did a bad job with Glass, huh? It happens every now and then. People get mad and go berserk. Sometimes they pull themselves out of it, sometimes — damn. Sorry son of a bitch."

Batta blinks back what might be tears, and looks at Edelgard hard. "Sorry about this. We was just teasing ya about the job. Though — I wouldn't mind a gig if you got one. Like everyone else here in Remire, I've lost everything because of the war."

Edelgard doesn't say a word. She just storms out the door, leaving Byleth to handle the damage control.

* * *

Byleth finds Edelgard soon after, sitting on a patch of dirt that likely had the life forever ripped away from it by the Remire Virus.

"I'm embarrassed that you saw that," Edelgard sighs without gazing up at Byleth, possibly out of fear. "Before the crown, that was all I had access to, and it's loathe of me to admit it, but looking back on those days, it makes me feel wretched."

Byleth stays still, not sure yet if she should sit besides her Emperor or not.

"Men like Batta and Glass and… Kostas," Edelgard continues. "...they raped and pillaged for money. They're scum of the earth if you ask me, but did that stop me from hiring them? No. Because my vision of the future sounded deluded back then, and it was only the incompetant low lifes I could get to listen to me."

Now Byleth takes a seat besides Edelgard, but the Emperor hardly acknowledges her.

"What does that say about me, Professor?" Edelgard asks out loud. "Maybe people like Dimitri are right. Maybe I am a bane on this land."

Byleth shakes her head, but Edelgard doesn't see it, or at least, pretends not to.

"I've heard whispers from people who claim that Rhea is evil solely because she can become a dragon," Edelgard draws her knees up to her chest. "I work with that narrative because it makes it easier for me to be convincing, but I truly do not believe that is what makes her our target. Though…" Edelgard finally turns to face Byleth and runs a dainty hand along the mercenary's cheek. She is still quite clearly drunk. "...Rhea did hurt you, and when I find her, I will make her pay dearly for that."

Byleth gazes at Edelgard so intently, for a second, she thinks that she might even get closer. But alas, Edelgard turns away. "We used to utilize monsters in our army, if you can recall. I've been tempted in recent years to revert back to that, but I knew that you wouldn't approve, and I never gave up hope that you would return."

Byleth nods and shuffles closer to her Emperor, shoulders grazing each other. She almost lets her head fall onto that same shoulder, but maybe it would be too much.

"Professor… are you sure about me?" Crows' feet crack across Edelgard's face as her eyes narrow. "It's not too late for you to walk a different path."

Byleth sits still for a long time, mirrors Edelgard's pose by her drawing her knee to her chest. She says, "No. I promised to protect you back in the Holy Tomb."

Edelgard's glum face brightens for a moment, as it always does. But so quickly it becomes drained and pale once again. "Protect me from what?"

"From people like Thales, who take advantage of you. From people like Kostas, who make a mockery of you," Byleth grabs at Edelgard's shoulder tightly, like a friend might. She wants the touch to be softer, but that scares her too much.

"But Byleth…" Edelgard sighs. "I am those people. We're cut from the same cloth." She turns away again. "Though I might be more educated, and potentially more empathetic, I'm still a tyrant. I still started this war. What right have I to then turn back on everything?"

"Don't say that," Byleth chokes. It's not a sound that comes from her throat often.

Edelgard definitely notices that, and her eyes escape that self-pitying wince. "Professor, do not think that I compare you to them. You are far greater than all of it, than even me."

There it goes again, that lack of self-love. Desperately though Byleth may want to cure that disease within Edelgard, that is not a battle she can wage. So instead she drops her hand from the shoulder and finds Edelgard's hand, and allows herself for once to be soft. A little gasp escapes Edelgard's mouth and it is very cute. When Byleth turns to face her Emperor, she sees that some color has returned to her complexion, likely from the alcohol. Byleth feels it too, this soft, flightiness.

"I'll never leave you," Byleth whispers.

There are no more words after that. It's an unknown amount of time later that the girls both abruptly wake up because of Petra patting them on the heads. Apparently, they fell asleep holding hands, and with Edelgard's head on her shoulder. She really wishes that she had stayed awake for that, but knowing that it happened will be enough for now.

"Any findings?" Edelgard straightens out her robes, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Petra.

"No, I have not been seeing any spies," Petra also avoids eye contact, though when she speaks, she undoubtedly smirks at the two of them. While Petra may not make fun of them for this, she will surely tell Dorothea and that woman will never let them live it down.

"Thank you, Petra," Edelgard says. "Let's return to Garreg Mach then and round up some of our best. I wish to be at the Rhodos Coast by tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a newsletter where I do updates on my professional writing career and other fun gay stuff! Check it out.  
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	5. Splintering Wood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a newsletter where I do updates on my professional writing career and other fun gay stuff! Check it out.  
https://tinyletter.com/unapologeticallymeatwad

Seteth hasn't spent an entire morning fishing like this since, well — since before Rhea probably. He did partake in some fishing with students at Garreg Mach every now and then, but that had less to do with fish and more to do with relationship building. Such as the times he spent with Leonie who fished because she was used to having to fend for herself, or with Alois, who never quite learned that his shouting was the sole reason he never caught even a guppy on his ventures out to the dock. Occasionally, Seteth did cast his own line but he could never focus on the catch. It was always about other people, because as the Archbishop's Assistant, it was up to him to help people through their many problems, or at least, that's how he saw it.

Now? Now he sits listening to nothing but the ocean waves rolling under his boots. Hours pass on and don't cease until his metal bucket is filled to the brim with fish. It is… pleasurable. He wonders if this is considered normal behavior for people whose lives are not placed so precariously within the battles of good versus evil.

He is sure that Rhea would be disappointed if she saw him now. He's a deserter now after all, and he should probably try to one day atone for his actions. But at their failed attempt at taking back Garreg Mach, he watched so many of his friends die. Friends who would have lived had it not been for Edelgard.

It is still so fresh in his mind; he was taking on a whole legion of former students when Flayn's cries cleaved through the havoc. He immediately turned tail and guided his wyvern to her, and found her pale and bleeding on the ground. His heart stopped, and he prepared himself to kill… but then Byleth dropped her blade and reached for Flayn's small hand. She took it and looked back at him.

Byleth granted them mercy. They are so lucky to have been blessed by that. Though he knew it to be wrong, he refused to not take the opportunity, and immediately scooped up Flayn and fled. In his cowardice, he mailed a letter to Catherine so that she could break the news to Rhea. He just knew that if he were to face her, she would have convinced him to stay. But not for good reason.

The war changed Rhea. She's manic now. Always talking to herself, cackling at the air, withholding valuable strategy from her people. Going to war with her was terrifying. While Edelgard's forces were so organized, theirs was not. Rhea was not capable of leading the army, but was unwilling to hand the duties down to someone else.

But those are excuses. Catherine didn't run, nor did Cyril. But Seteth did. He'll never let himself forgive that, probably. He frowns at the idea of facing them. He's dreamed of inviting them to his little cottage on the shoreline of Rhodos Coast, but he's sure they'd laugh at him. This is a poor man's idea of running away; Edelgard and Byleth helped him once here. Heretics from the Western Church had rioted here and it was only with the Black Eagles' help did they win.

Why did they help him? Did Edelgard know then that she was going to war with him?

Ah, that is too personal. There are no vendettas here, just ideals.

Drat.

Perhaps… perhaps this is a poor day to wile away hours fishing. It is dangerous to let his mind wander so. He should go inside. Maybe he could work on his story book. Hilda, the pink haired girl from Golden Deer, and him are actually business partners — he writes children book stories and she illustrates them. Hilda is one of the few that know Seteth and Flayn still live, and partly the reason he decided to remain in Fodlan...

"Is that White Trout?!" Flayn exclaims, crowding around Seteth the moment he passes through the door.

… _that _being the other reason.

"Father, you are so sweet and thoughtful!" Flayn snatches the bucket away from Seteth, much to his amusement, and sifts through the pile of fish, checking for all the different kinds he was able to procure with a little help from some Wind magic that Flayn taught him.

"Oh, Heavens, a bullhead!" she shouts, holding the whiskered fish high in the air. "My absolute favorite."

"Flayn," Seteth tries to resist a smile. "You know not to ever call me, Father. Please."

"Oh, Father, you are so silly," Flayn shakes her head enthusiastically. "This is a safe place. No one is here to find out our secret."

Seteth crooks a finger into his beard. Flayn is correct, to an extent. It is quite remote up here. "But for all we know, Flayn, the Imperial Army or — Goddess forgive me for even saying this, _but the Church of Seiros_ — they could have sent spies up here."

Flayn is nonplussed. "That is silly, Father. You know as much as I that if someone were to be spying on us, it would likely be because they know our secret already."

"Oh," Seteth sighs. "I have not considered that, but you do have a point, I suppose. I will think on this. However, for now, just to be on the safe side, I would like if you would call me, Brother."

"It's a little too late to say that now, I'm afraid," a bone chilling voice announces from the hallway.

Everything shifts in Seteth's mind and he quickly blocks Flayn's body with his own, carefully reaching into his rack of fishing rods to pluck free his emergency lance. This time, unlike at Garreg Mach, he will not leave Flayn's side. "Flayn, stay behind me," he whispers.

"Though you being Flayn's dear Father isn't much of a secret," the voice drawls, the man finally appearing in the door frame. It is Hubert, smiling for once, an orb of black energy sizzling in the air above his palm. Shocking that the Emperor's right hand is here. "Hand over the girl and we can arrange for this to be peaceful."

"Over my dead body," Seteth hisses. "What more could you want from us? Another one of your filthy blood experiments?"

Hubert blinks, eye brows knitting a wrinkle of frustration. "Those experiments were not Lady Edelgard's. Much of what transpired at our school was done without her knowledge — "

"So then _what?!_" Seteth almost screams, but knows he must stay calm if he is to protect Flayn. Still, his tone seethes. "I care little for your false explanations. Do you know how many have died because of _you_?"

"_Personally? _Yes," Hubert shrugs. "As for the war in its entirety, no. I could ask the same of you. You're a deserter. Rhea has been quite — ruthless these past few months. Endorsed the torture of one of our generals."

Seteth feels a twitch throb in his temple, but he restrains himself. He will not allow this boy to get the best of him. "Why are you here?" he rasps. "Why do you seek to take Flayn away from me again?"

"I cannot say," Hubert grunts, and for once, Seteth sees the conflict in the boy's eyes. He is only twenty five after all. Still youthful, still a whole future ahead of him if he is smart. Seteth almost considers lowering his lance and asking the boy to step into his office where they may speak more plainly. But that would be unwise — Seteth sensed the same conflict in Byleth too. He invited the girl into his office many times to guide her through it all… and look what she became.

"I will kill you if I have to, Hubert," Seteth growls. "Don't think I won't."

"Ha! I will forgive you for your deceit, it is only natural to boast when backed into the corner," Hubert shrugs, once again back to being non-commital. "You're heavily outnumbered. We're just not showing all our faces because then battle will become necessary."

"You're bluffing," Seteth laughs, hoping to get the rise out of the boy. But much to Seteth's chagrin, he hears a warm guffaw from behind Hubert. Much more jubilant than the mage's dry cackle.

Ferdinand von Aeir steps in and claps Hubert on the back. "Hubert is not bluffing, Seteth. By the way…" he extends his hand, revealing a book clutched in his palm. "Did you really write these? They're quite good."

What an odd comment to make before a duel to the death. It is almost as if the ginger boy is detached from all this, as if he doesn't yet understand the repercussions of these sorts of moments. Seteth twists the lance in his grip so that he can remain prepared.

"Thank you," Seteth isn't sure what else he should say to that. "Don't fight for me. I would hate for the Emperor to lose her two most loyal advisors over such a spat."

"Father," Flayn whispers, tugging on his sleeve.

"Not now Flayn, I — "

"There are more in the living room. I can sense them," Flayn urges. "We shall split up so that I may take care of them for us."

Unable to turn his back on their foes, the best Seteth can do is grab Flayn with his free hand. "You will not," he whispers back. "I will protect us, Flayn, you do not need to — "

She breaks free of his grip.

" — FLAYN! NO! DON'T!"

"I'm sorry, Father."

She escapes through one of the many doors, and Ferdinand quickly blocks the getaway with his girth. Flicking a rapier at Seteth's chest, he runs a large hand through his long locks. "So what say you, Seteth?" Ferdinand says. "Will you go put down your lance so that we may avoid harming your daughter? Or must we brawl it out?"

Seteth leans back, fingers drumming the staff to his lance in anticipation. He knows not if these children are truly heretics, he stopped knowing those things five years ago. In his last few weeks at Garreg Mach, he learned that Rhea had done something to Byleth. Apparently, it was bad enough to warrant turning the good mannered professor over to Edelgard's side.

Seteth's stomach churns at the thought of this… but he has his sympathies for their movement, misguided though they may be. Not that anyone, even Flayn, are aware of them.

But now these monsters have returned to take Flayn away from him again. That cannot stand. Under no circumstances can he yield. Therefore, he has no choice but to cut them down where they stand.

* * *

Flayn wishes that she could just lie down and cry. It is not in her hopes and aspirations to be a killer, but she has killed before and she will kill again. She knows that if she were to get hurt again, even sustain a scratch, her father would suffer far more than he already does for her sake. She must fight with the power of two; there is no other way anymore.

Storming through the living room, Flayn immediately senses a foreign presence to her left. She turns on her heel and faces both palms at the birch wood wall, and unleashes two separate torrents of wind: one to crack open the wall, and the other to drag whatever is on the other side over to her. It works well, wooden panelings raining all over, revealing the Brigid girl, Petra, crouching in what were once shadows. Before she can make a move, the second gale catches her and drags her ahead.

Flayn lifts Petra into the air, granting her one withering gaze, before tossing her into the wall behind her. The girl collapses in a heap, sword and bow rolling off of her back and clattering to the floor.

"Show yourself, Imperials!" Flayn declares to what appears to be an otherwise empty room. "I loved all of you so much, but if it is to be like this, I must stop you!"

"Flayn, honey," an alto voice chides from down the hall. Dorothea, the songstress, emerges from behind a pile of rubble. "We don't want to hurt you. Please, just come with us."

Flayn's grip tightens on her staff. That can't be true. They wouldn't invade her house if they didn't intend to harm her. But… she distinctly remembers Dorothea being the most vocal against the war. She remembers how Lady Rhea would assign the Black Eagles with horrible tasks. None of the students were ready to kill, most of all Dorothea. Flayn once walked in on Dorothea crying in the corner of the greenhouse. So why is she standing here? Why is she lying to Flayn?

Unless…

Dorothea blinks, her eyes flitting over Flayn's shoulders. It's very obvious, very intentional. It is as if Dorothea were saying, _I am helping you. Turn around._

Flayn knows that these are wartimes, but it is still wrong to not trust people. So Flayn turns, and sure enough, spies Linhardt preparing a warping spell to send that rapscallion, Caspar, over to her. Flayn narrows her eyes and shoves her staff into the air, quickly igniting her best Rescue spell.

It ensnares Linhardt who is instantly transported from across the room directly to Flayn's feet, his body mid-swing with his staff, his technique like a fisherman's.

"Oopsie-daisy," Linhardt immediately notes his mistake, his Warp spell lobbing Caspar much farther than anticipated, the teal haired boy crashing into one of the walls facefirst, and promptly falling backwards into another pile of rubble. "I suppose I lose then."

Linhardt drops his staff to the ground and falls to his knees, hands clasped behind his head. "I would understand you not believing me," he laments, his usual low murmur threatening to break into a pitch much higher. "But I actually do not intend to harm you, therefore I surrender."

"Linhardt!" Caspar groans over from the back of the room, apparently not yet unconscious. He smashes his silver gauntlets to the floor and pushes himself back up, arms shaking like strings on a harp. "Whatever. I'm still rarin' to go."

"Caspar, no!" Dorothea cries out, aiming her staff at the boy, her arms shaking as much as his.

"Wh-what? D-Dorothea?" Caspar frowns. "Ha! That's funny, you're funny. Good act. For a second there, I thought you were serious about — "

"_I am serious_," Dorothea snaps. "Sit down. She is a child, how could you?"

So Flayn was correct and she supposes this is her faith being rewarded. Though something about it is just so unsettling.

"D-Dorothea," Petra whimpers from afar, rocks tumbling from her shoulders, forehead smeared with lines of heavy dust. "What is it that you are doing?

This is difficult to keep track of, but Flayn turns her head attentively from one former classmate to the other. She had no idea there was so much conflict within them, no one on her side of the war ever acknowledged that. When Dorothea and Petra argue, Flayn can tell that it hurts the two of them deeply, it reminds her of the time she accidentally walked in on her Father arguing with Lady Rhea.

Why are any of them doing this? Why must they fight?

Dorothea shakes so much, Flayn is afraid she might drop her staff. If not for the staff and her prowess in magic, there is no way she would hold such explicit control over this room.

At long last, a cold voice cries out, and Flayn recognizes it immediately, so she prepares her staff once again.

"Dorothea, sit down yourself, you are embarrassing the Empire," Emperor Edelgard barks, advancing into the room at a brisk pace, ax already drawn. Her eyes skim over Flayn prominently as she takes in the visage of her fallen soldiers. "I will forget this quarrel, as will you. I love you all so much to remember it. But never again can such a disagreement occur."

When Edelgard appears satisfied, she turns on Flayn. So different from how she appeared at school, her wiry limbs hidden behind crimson armor, long locks folded into buns contained by her crowd. She appears tired, dark lines framing glazed over eyes. She is as short as ever, hardly grown physically. It reminds Flayn of a doll she might play with.

Edelgard leans into her heel and raises her ax high. It glows with power, the weapon apparently made of bone. It reminds Flayn of a dragon's bone, and her heart beats ever faster. She will not become… _that_. Nor her Father. Nor Father.

Edelgard draws in a heavy breath. "Flayn. We are not here out of vendetta. However, one of my people has been taken. They have asked for your blood in exchange. I am — familiar — with what they did to you. I will make sure it is not so bad this time around, and I am sorry it is to be like this."

Someone was taken? And who holds such power over Edelgard? It is astonishing. Flayn looks over the students again, trying hard to remember the other Black Eagles. Perhaps she can help them, perhaps it will avoid the bloodshed. "Was it Bernadetta?"

Edelgard's face remains fixed. "No. That is unimportant."

Caspar pricks his head up. "It was Lysithea, Flayn."

"SILENCE!" Edelgard shrieks, ax flying over her head and smashing into the floor, making even more of a mess from Flayn's cherished home with Father. "All of you, _please_. Forgive me, Flayn, but we are not in a position to help each other, though I wish we were."

Flayn looks at her fellow students again. Do they even believe in Edelgard? Why does this have to be so different from what she expected?

It doesn't matter. They are still destroying her home and trying to kill her. They aren't people, they cannot be reasoned. They killed Claude after all. Anyone left alive in their wake is likely someone who found a way to play dead on the battlefield.

"That's a lie," Flayn spits. "You're a liar, Edelgard, and one day you will have to answer to Seiros for your deceit!"

Emotion floods into Edelgard's eyes, and for a moment, Flayn sees the young, thin child hiding beneath all that armor. She hates Edelgard for what she has done, but in this moment she feels nothing less than pity for her.

"Perhaps I will," Edelgard raises her head high. "Fight me. Fight for your life, Flayn. I will fight for Lysithea's."

* * *

The ocean is beautiful.

Byleth has only been able to admire it from up close and while in the midst of battle. Today, she stands on an overlook and gets to see the blue fill most of her vision. She likes how the blue sky touches down, meeting the darker hue at the horizon. She wonders what lies beyond that finite line, and if it is anything she could escape to.

Byleth told the Emperor that her Eagles would be enough to take Flayn, and the best use of her would be to place her up high. This way she can watch for spies while keeping her eye on Seteth's cottage. Truthfully, she trusts that Petra, Edelgard's eyes and ears, when she claims that were no spies at the meeting with Thales. She doesn't think an ambush is a possibility right now. She just can't stomach the fact that Edelgard is planning the capture of a _child_. Possibly dooming said child to the same fate of Edelgard and her ten siblings.

Byleth loves Lysithea, loves all her students so much. Words fail her at the notion. But does it justify replacing their captive with Flayn? No. That is to continue the cycle of violence, and such is war. It's not her first bout with an exchange like this; as a child mercenary, she did many jobs like this with Jeralt and he always instructed her to not ask questions, or you just might kill yourself in despair.

So that is what she does today. Stays silent. Still accountable, but it's easier to shrug off.

Byleth was born a mercenary, and apparently she will die one too.

Is this enough to sever ties with Edelgard? To chance the Divine Pulse back to the Holy Tomb?

Byleth is embarrassed to admit it, but no. It is not. She can't diverge from this path right now.

"P-Professor, would you mind stepping a-away from the ledge?" Bernadetta stutters from behind her, hand nervously running back and forth through the mane of her pegasus. "I-it's making me nerv-nervous."

Byleth sighs, and without a reply, turns and advances over to a different ledge. This one hangs ten or so meters above another cliff face, the level below jutting out farther. If she were to fall from here — it would hurt — but not be remotely deadly. Unless she were burdened by heavy armor. Byleth narrows her eyes and gives another serious look-see over the land, but when green lights flash behind the windows to Seteth's cabin, she can look no longer.

Edelgard promised her that this wouldn't be violent.

Byleth frowns and turns her head over to Bernadetta. "Bernie…" But immediately, Byleth stops herself as an armored man approaches from behind, the scowl on his face wide enough to split his head in two. "Bernadetta," Byleth repeats in a much more urgent tone. "Get back."

"Oh no, I made you mad, didn't I?" Bernadetta whines, hands clutching her pegasus' cheeks. "I'm sorry, Professor, I-I won't do it again."

"No, Bernadetta, there's — "

"Greetings, Miss Von Varley," Dedue smirks, speaking in his usual cold, clipped tone.

Bernadetta finally notices the King of Faerghus' Sword and Shield, and yelps, pegasus stumbling backwards, almost throwing Bernadetta off its back.

"Sorry," Dedue frowns, lazily drawing the tomahawk from his belt. "Humor was never my strong suit. I did not intend to shock you, Miss Von Varley."

Bernadetta gasps, "You're — you're — "

"The enemy, yes," Dedue nods, looking back to Byleth. "Before I cut you down, I must know; what has motivated you to steal children from their beds? That does not seem to be the professor I remember."

Byleth leans back into her calve, brandishing her sword, swinging it dangerously. She takes a moment to think. Dedue is caked in armor, he only would have climbed this high if he knew someone were up here keeping watch, meaning that Petra was wrong. There _was_ a spy, and there _is_ an ambush.

"Where's Lysithea?" Byleth hisses.

Dedue hesitates. Obviously, there is some conflict of interests, but that hesitation is more than enough to prove that they have been duped; Thales lied, he never had Lysithea at all. It was all a set-up, from start to finish.

"You are highly intelligent," Dedue smiles at long last. "If I can be bold — you are going to ask me why am I comfortable doing the same? To steal children from their beds? It would be insightful of you to ask."

Byleth nods.

"I will do anything His Majesty requests. You take Flayn for one girl. We take Flayn of Fodlan. Because you see, Professor, the war ends today," Dedue eyes Bernadetta carefully. "I am to stop you so that it may be easier for His Majesty to take Edelgard's head. It will quell the voices he hears in his head."

Byleth leers at Dedue, carefully side-stepping away from the precipice she could easily be pushed off of. Dedue seems like a good man, loyal to a fault. Like Catherine and Cyril, or Byleth herself even.

She thought that when she protected Edelgard, that would find more investment in her Emperor's ideals. But instead, she finds herself solely fighting to protect the Emperor. It's her lot in life she supposes, to be a mercenary again.

"Bernadetta, warn the others," Byleth grunts.

The pegasus drags its hooves against the sand, wings taking flight when Dedue steps forward. "I would not do that if I were you. The Kingdom Army lies below us, we have many skilled archers in our ranks. You will not survive the journey to your friends. It'd be best if you stayed here with me. We could talk of many things. For instance, I have heard that we both enjoy gardening, Bernadetta."

Bernadetta quakes atop her pegasus, already sobbing. She looks to Byleth for help.

"Bernie, go!" Byleth screams, not caring how loud her voice may be.

Bernadetta's pegasus leaps off the ground, sending plumes of sand everywhere, but it is too slow. Though weighed down by tons of armor that Byleth cannot imagine bearing, Dedue still reacts fast. His drags the tomahawk through the air, bending his arm before his chest, tip of the ax brushing his ear, and with deadeye accuracy, lobs the tomahawk through the air.

It strikes not Bernie, but her pegasus, ripping a hole in the right wing. Blood spurts from the feathers and the fantastical creature howls in pain, crumpling from the sky, and plummeting out of sight.

But there is no time to grieve. Byleth charges at Dedue, sword raised. "Not your best move. You sacrificed your only weapon, Dedue!"

Dedue merely smirks. "Hardly." Though Byleth cannot see it, when his fists swing down to his hips, and he clenches tight, metal guards slip down the armor and over his gauntlets. When Byleth does swing at Dedue's head, he retaliates by swinging his fist directly at the blade, smacking the broad side of the sword so hard that it turns Byleth, opening her left flank.

Before she can retort, he closes the gap between them and strikes her once in the chest, and then once in the face. It's like getting struck by a battering ram if all of its mass were condensed into one blunt object. She falls back, shoulder breaking her fall, but still she rolls across the jagged stone, foot dangling off the ledge she had backed away from prior.

Thankfully, Dedue isn't far gone enough to kill her right then and there. He waits for in his fighting stance, allowing her time to ready her sword again, before darting back in.

It's a good moment to surrender, and maybe if Bernie were still up there with her, she would. She would have the composure to talk things through for once, but Bernie might be dead and it is no longer a time to talk. So she charges.

* * *

Seteth is rusty at combat, but then again, he's had a lifetime of practice. He falls into the ebbs and flow of swordplay quickly. Ferdinand takes him up at the lance, weapons battering back and forth. While the younger boy is far stronger than Seteth, he is slower. He overcompensates by striking hard and pushing his massive frame along with each lunge.

Meanwhile, Hubert backs him up, blitzing plumes of miasma at Seteth from all sides. Some blast torrents through the floor at his feet, and he almost has to dance to avoid them. After one particular onslaught, Seteth finds himself backed up against the wall, flanked by more pillars of miasma than he can count.

But still, Ferdinand finds a way to slip between them, and he lunges at Seteth. There's a glint in his orange eyes that tells Seteth that the boy really thinks that _this_ will be the finishing blow. There is so much pride Ferdinand carries, the long mane that flops behind his ears emblematic of a divine hero. Ferdinand isn't any ordinary soldier; he believes in the ideology of why there even is a war.

Seteth remembers these qualities all too well; Ferdinand would boast proudly of his nobility status, and aggravated many of the students with his talks, so much so that many of them, Mercedes and Dorothea in particular, had to confront Seteth about staging an intervention.

But Edelgard despises nobility. So why in Seiros' name would Ferdinand ever side with her? It makes little sense to him.

Seteth wants to ask, but Ferdinand leaves no time for it. His bold strikes leave him vulnerable, making felling him all too easy.

Ferdinand's rapier jabs into the wall, splintering through plaster; it doesn't leave Seteth with many options. He kicks the rapier free from the noble's hands, and then leans into a lunge at Ferdinand's knee. He strikes it head on and the boy howls in pain, falling to the ground. Seteth grimaces and goes for the chest this time, it will be the killing stroke he figures.

But Ferdinand scurries backwards, arm passing through one of the miasma columns. He shrieks in pain again and falls limp against the wall, panting. The plumes fall back into the floor, leaving the arena wide open again, revealing Hubert staring at the two of them in dismay. Apparently the dark mage is too shocked to move, so Seteth ignores him and pokes the tip of his lance into Ferdinand's throat.

It's not a question he should ask, not before he goes for the kill, but Seteth can't help himself.

"Why Edelgard, Ferdinand?" Seteth says, his voice prickly from emotion. "It would have been so easy to stay with us."

Ferdinand gulps something down, his cheeks pulling taut as he gapes up at the lance. Finally, he finds his smile. Coughing, he spits the words out, "It was the power of friendship by good man!"

A heavy pause. Could that… truly be genuine? What on Earth does he mean? Friendship?

"Oh no, Seteth," Ferdinand laughs. "I assume from your lingering silence that Lady Rhea was not hospitable towards you in your service! Perhaps after the war, if she lives, we can include negotiations for her to be kinder and…"

"No more of this, Ferdinand," Hubert hisses from afar.

Seteth keeps his lance planted on Ferdinand's Adam's Apple, and turns over to the boy. Hubert sends cascades of miasma into the floor, the force of his magic so powerful that it propels his cape high into the air. Again, the miasma protrudes from the floorboards, surrounding Seteth, this time morphing into two horrid talons. But they don't scare Seteth much; he has seen far worse.

"Seteth," Hubert frowns, so much displease etched between his knitted eyebrows. "If you raise that lance any higher, you will kill my friend. I recognize I am not strong enough to kill you in this moment, but I promise you that if you kill him… I will have to leave Lady Edelgard's side and commit my life to one day ending yours."

Oh my.

Coming from Hubert's mouth, that is not something to take lightly.

But Seteth keeps his lance prodded in Ferdinand's throat, even drills it farther in. It nicks the skin and opens a small cut for blood to stream from.

Ferdinand ignores the cut, and somehow finds his loud, boisterous tone. "Seteth — if I may. What Hubert says to you is harsh, largely because he has yet to learn how to properly express himself… what he truly means to say is that — um — the two of us engaged in intercourse the previous eve. We are lovers, you see."

Both of Seteth's eyebrows shoot up to his receding hairline. He turns back to Hubert, observing him curiously. "I hope it wasn't in the dorm rooms of Garreg Mach," he says in an icy tone.

Hubert's gaunt cheeks redden and he bows his head. "I don't wish to talk about this right now. We are at war, we have to kill those who oppose us. You do the same. It's how these things work."

No one dares move a muscle. This gives Seteth pause; it's almost as if Hubert is justifying something to himself.

This makes no sense. How could these… these _heretics_ feel so much for one another? Is it possible that they aren't just soulless monsters dedicated to overthrowing everything he stands… no… _once stood_ for? Furthermore, they are _children_. The Goddess' children, taking up arms to make a difference.

In that sense, what they do is beautiful.

They need guidance. They need… well… a teacher.

The lance drops into Ferdinand's lap, and though the ginger boy's eyes gleam so brightly up at him, Seteth can't bear to meet them. He looks to Hubert, who gasps in surprise at Seteth marching towards him with no arms to speak of. Seteth even raises his empty hands high.

"You will not take Flayn from me," Seteth says quietly. "But — I want to negotiate. To talk. Is Lady Edelgard here?"

Hubert bites his lip and turns away. "Y-yes. But she's not willing — "

"_Hubert_."

Both heads turn to the speaker; it's Ferdinand, and for once, his voice is pleading. Tears already drip down his cheeks and when Seteth looks back to Hubert, he does his best to hold a smile.

"Hubert," Seteth repeats. "Please."

Hubert mutters something under his breath and with his head still bowed, turns away. "Very well. I will arrange an audience."

Seteth grins even more. "Thank you."

* * *

Edelgard leaps from side to side, torrents of wind blasting besides her and sending her cape up into the air. But with each gust, she gains more traction, she scales farther across the floor, and soon she will be within an arm's reach of Flayn.

Still though — it would be nice to end this peacefully. But that will never happen. Five years has been long enough to consider that message received. In fairness, Edelgard never did try to resolve things like that. Truthfully, she thought she would have died within a year of Garreg Mach. Lysithea probably felt the same way.

But death never came, and she's been forced into this Hell she created. It's her fault, obviously, and it was selfish to begin a war she thought she wouldn't see through.

Everything changes when Seteth enters the room. Her heart sinks at the sight of him; if he is alive then that means Hubert and Ferdinand…

It happens without a thought — she lobs her ax through the air and it cleaves through the wind. Edelgard sees Flayn's eyes narrow as she pushes hard on the wind magic, but to no avail. She sees Seteth's eyes widen in horror, his entire body lurching forward to save his daughter. And she sees Hubert and Ferdinand follow Seteth through the doorway, both boys relatively unharmed, and it's then that Edelgard knows she made a mistake.

The ax strikes Flayn on the cheek and she tumbles to the ground, a stream of blood arcing through the space she once occupied.

"FLAAAAAYN!" Seteth screams, his strangled voice draining his complexion of any color. He drops to his knees, shoving Flayn into his lap, and he stares at her with teary eyes. "Flayn, my daughter, sp-speak to me. Please. Please don't go."

"F-Father…" Flayn whispers, reaching up and touching her father's beard, her cheek smeared by crackles of blood. She is lucky to not have lost more. "I will live."

Seteth and Edelgard gasp at the same time. Though his feelings are immeasurable thanks to hers, she is delighted that her throw was not a killing strike.

"Flayn," Seteth cries out, almost burying his face into hers, but he looks back at Edelgard, back arched. "How could you do such a thing? I stepped into this room to understand you, but now I see you as nothing more than a — "

"With your permission, Lady Edelgard," Hubert drones, smacking his cape up against Seteth's face. He presses his pale hands together and politely bows. "I can explain the situation at hand to Seteth. With your permission, I think it is appropriate to divulge _everything_ if I may. In the meantime, Prime Minister Von Aegir would like to take you for a walk."

When the black cape falls back to Hubert's calves, Edelgard sees Seteth eyeing her in such dismay. She knows what he is thinking. _Prime Minister Von Aegir. _As if Ferdinand is actually a prime minister. They are children, masquerading as the new Gods of the world. Prime Minister. Feh. He is no more a prime minister than she is an Emperor.

Edelgard murmurs in a tone sharp enough to crash through ice. "Very well."

* * *

"The weather is good up here, is it not?" Ferdinand says while gesturing at the big blue sky. Surely, discussions about the weather will move Lady Edelgard to speak with him.

"Yes," she drones from behind him, staring off at something that is not the big blue sky.

Ferdinand turns and sees her head craned towards the mountains, up where Byleth and Bernadetta are scouting. "Oh, Emperor Von Hrsevelg, I'm sure they are fine. We are fine after all, and we battled the Archbishop's — "

"Edelgard," the Emperor says to him in such a strained voice. Oh dear. How unlike her.

"Nonsense!" Ferdinand proclaims. "Take pride in your title, Your Majesty, for you — "

"I'm a fraud, Ferdinand."

She must be speaking so loudly for him to hear her voice trail past her shoulders like this. He frowns and steps forward, and she turns around, face pale and devoid of any feeling. It reminds him of how she appeared in the Holy Tomb. It's those moments where he finds it hard to meet her imploring gaze.

He sighs and folds his hands together. "You know, I've heard rumors about our class. They say of all the Black Eagles, people suspected me of being the most likely to turn on you." He smiles at her in assurance. "But I'd never leave you. I believe in you, Edelgard, why — at the apex of my pride, I almost purchased a black eagle to have as a pet the other day, but Hubert — " he chokes on his own words.

Hubert told him to tell no one. Oh no. Now Prime Minister Von Aegir will be murdered in his sleep! Phooey!

"I know about you and Hubert, Ferdinand," Edelgard says, offering a rare smile. "He actually asked for my permission before courting you."

In a rare moment of commoner talk, Ferdinand laughs and says, "What? Are you his mother?"

Edelgard blushes and bows her head. "Hubert and I — we have a strange dynamic, I'll say that."

"There you are," a low voice hisses from afar. The two of them turn to see an angry Dorothea marching towards Edelgard quickly. Ferdinand doesn't take it too seriously though — when Dorothea is upset, she typically does nonsensical things. Like call people a _bee_.

Preposterous! Ferdinand is busy and productive! Of course he is a bee.

So color him dismayed when Dorothea's hand flies through the air and smacks Edelgard in the face, so hard that it crooks the Emperor's head to the side.

Before the Emperor can retort, Dorothea slaps both hands to her hips and starts to rail on the woman. "You threw an _ax_ at a child, Edie?! I don't even know you anymore! What's gotten into you? This has nothing — _nothing_ to do with Crests or nobility, you have devolved into a coward! You're — "

Dorothea pauses and glances up at Ferdinand who approaches them fast. " — go away you _bee_!"

Ferdinand shakes his head. "There you are again with the bee thing — I do not understand — wait…" he snaps his fingers. "I do! You must find me very annoying, yes? Ha! Because bees buzz about and bother you! It makes me sad to know that you were not complimenting me, but I appreciate the metaphor."

Suddenly, Edelgard lurches forward and grabs Dorothea tightly, wedging her forehead into the taller woman's shoulder. Dorothea, shocked, stands limp for a moment, before gently placing her hands on the woman's back.

Ferdinand raises his hands, not exactly sure what to do with them either, but when Dorothea nods to the right, the universal sign for _a moment please _— the girl ought to communicate nonverbally more, it would do wonders for her relationships — he leaves them with their moment.

* * *

Edelgard enters the room to find her Eagles standing in a circle, joined by both Seteth and Flayn. Despite the destruction around them all, there is peace, and possibly ideas. For once, she is prepared to listen. But when she steps forward, there is a shattering of glass. The shaft of an arrow flies right past her nose, nearly impaling her.

There are screams, but Edelgard ignores them. A scroll hangs off the arrow, and that is obviously her top concern. She unfurls it fast, and immediately screams. She falls to her knees, and slams a worn fist into the floor.

No one understands her dread until the scroll flops over for their viewership. It rolls outwards and they all see the Holy Crest of Faerghus scrawled across it.

It doesn't take long for them to realize that Dimitri and his army have them completely surrounded.

…

Edelgard's chest rises and falls with nervous anticipation. She feels all clammy inside; this is the reunion she has been dreading the most. It is most illogical for _him_ to be here of all places right now, but it is also illogical of _her _to be here.

That is something that King Dimitri and Emperor Edelgard both share — they always take the frontlines despite the protests of their retainers. Perhaps in a different timeline, Hubert and Dedue could have become chums, hanging out to complain about their reckless bosses. It makes her smile.

"E-Edelgard, hey," a nasally voice squeaks from behind her. She turns to see Caspar, stooped over and lowly. It is very unlike him.

"Apologies, Lady Edelgard," Hubert says briskly, marching up to Caspar quickly and grabbing him by the shoulder plate. "Pay no mind to us."

"No, Hubert, hey, get off me," Caspar grunts, trying to pry the mage's hand away, and when he fails, finally shouting, "GET OFF ME!"

_Whack!_

Hubert stumbles backwards, a bruise planted over one of his yellow eyes. He leers at the boy and advances again.

"Enough!" Edelgard shouts, her sound clipping through their tussle. Thankfully, they both cease this idiocy. She turns on Caspar. "Explain yourself."

Caspar frowns. "Um — I — I want to go with you."

Edelgard shakes her head. "I appreciate the sentiment, Caspar, but this is something I must do alone."

"You don't understand," Caspar whines, gritting his teeth. His eyes shy away from his usual passion, and the color is off. His jowels quiver in his anger and it is all so unlike him. "General Randolph… um… I found out recently that he was my — he's my uncle, Edelgard."

Edelgard raises her head sternly, staring at the boy. General Randolph was lured in by a trap laid by King Dimitri and his general, Gilbert. According to those who were able to escape, Randolph had taken the frontlines to buy their people more time. Days passed and they eventually had to make the assumption that he had been killed in his last stand.

A month later, one of the spies, Shamir, returned to the monastery, disturbingly quiet. Edelgard had to be taken into a separate room with her to discuss what had happened; King Dimitri took delight in torturing Randolph to the brink of his death. The only reason the man died when he did was because of General Gilbert showing mercy and ending the man's life himself.

Edelgard has been imagining this encounter for the past few years now, and always imagined being strong enough to do it alone. It feels — wrong, to include someone else in this faceoff. But Caspar has as much of a right to stand before the King as she does. So against her fantasies of empowerment, she nods curtly to him.

"Thank you so much, Edelgard, I — are we going to kill him?" Caspar asks.

Edelgard cocks her head over to Hubert in the corner, but he is already gone, probably retreated back to the strategy room to figure out exactly how to get out of this. There are still no eyes on Bernadetta or Byleth, but she's sure they are okay.

Edelgard looks back to Caspar and shrugs. "I wish I could answer that, Caspar. Forgive me for not knowing."

Caspar bites his lip, but nods back, blinking away tears. "I forgive you."

* * *

"Oh no, Hubert! What has happened to your face? Oho, it was Caspar, wasn't it? That scoundrel. A noble like him ought to know better than to — "

"Ferdinand, please. Your concern for my health is touching, but inconvenient at the current time."

"Ah, well, so it is!"

"So it is," Hubert grunts as Ferdinand falls back onto one of Seteth's many chairs in his living room. The Black Eagle Strike Force sit around each other in a circle, though their numbers are down by four. Lady Edelgard is handling Dimitri with Caspar, while Byleth and Bernadetta — well, Hubert has already acknowledged they were likely ambushed and defeated. It is better to plan for the worst; he can cry about them later.

Right now, all eyes are on him. So few of them understand this war, and it is always he that is asked questions, never Lady Edelgard.

"I do not wish to say this so do not take me lightly," Hubert says. "But this is the last time we will ever all sit down together like this. I cannot foresee a future where we win. We are greatly outnumbered and surrounded. There is nowhere to run, and — Petra, I almost want to ask you to fly back to Garreg Mach and bring back the cavalry, but we're not even strong enough to hold the Kingdom's Army back for that long. We have no battalions, no tactics, no — "

"Shut up, Hubie," Dorothea snaps from across him. "This is depressing."

Hubert's mouth lifts into a smirk. "But it's the truth. Unless you have some tactics in mind. Archers lie in the forests, pegasuses occupy the skies…"

"_Ahem_."

A presumptuous cough interrupts Hubert's thinking. He rises to his full height with curled fists, and finds himself nose to nose with Seteth.

"Sit please, Hubert," Seteth says in a thin voice.

Hubert, reluctantly, does so.

Seteth crosses his arms and looks down his nose at the Strike Force. "I have a theory I would like to share with you, if you will allow it."

Hubert, too proud to respond, counts his blessings when Linhardt cuts the tension by kindly offering the former bishop a spot at his side.

Seteth offers a quick smile before sitting and looking around the room once again. "How strange it is that the Eagle and the Lion are at war again. Regardless of however it is you view Rhea, you are all still my students and I hope that you survive."

Hubert coughs. "You said you had a theory?"

"Ah, yes. I do. If Dimitri's army was waiting here for you, he either had a spy tail you, or…"

Dorothea is the first to catch it. "You don't think he…"

"Set it up?" Seteth asks. "I think it's possible. Working with him in the war room for those five years was… unpleasant. The man is obsessed with your Emperor's head; he cannot be reasoned with."

Hubert leans back. "So you think King Dimitri kidnapped Lysithea? That is sad, but what is the point of all this, Seteth?"

Seteth grins in a rare moment of pleasure. "I believe that Dimitri used my sister — "

" — they all know you are my father, um, Father," Flayn chides, stepping into the room, clad in fresh white robes, a staff in hand.

" — ah, yes, sorry, force of habit — " Seteth buries his face in his hand. " — though it pains me to do this, for King Dimitri and his forces are synonymous with Rhea… Flayn means more to me than the Church of Seiros."

"As does my Father," Flayn frowns, marching over to massage her father's shoulders. She looks very pointedly at Hubert. "I think what you and Lady Edelgard did that day was despicable, and I will never forgive you for that. But…"

She stops talking and Seteth cocks his head to the left. "Yes. I agree Flayn. _But._"

Ferdinand leaps out of his seat, accidentally knocking over a glass of water. "You're going to help us fight the Kingdom's Army!?"

Hubert raises an eyebrow. "Ferdinand, you ninny, that's not what they're sayin—"

"I'm afraid it is, Hubert," Seteth barely conceals his smirk. "Come now. Let's gear up. We fight together. We do not break formation or leave anyone behind. Only then can we win."

* * *

Stepping onto the beach, Edelgard feels chills from all over. They are completely surrounded in a half-circle perimeter. Archers await them in the forest, famed assassin, Felix Fraldarius at the centerpiece of it all. Pegasus fly overhead, lead by Commander Ingrid Galatea. General Gilbert stands along his daughter, Annette Dominic, and a circle of mages back them up with their staffs, Mercedes von Martritz their captain.

A bleeding pegasus is pushed through the brush and held high in the air by one of the strongmen. It's Bernadetta's pegasus, it's… horribly wounded. The wing has been split in two and it's not clear if the creature still breaths. Edelgard hears Caspar gasp in disdain from behind, but she quickly reaches back and touches his finger with hers. "Stay calm, Caspar," she whispers. "They're not showing Bernie's body. She's alive at least. The professor too. I just know they are."

They march on. The waves behind them crash and blister. Astonishingly loud and terribly scary. Edelgard can't even stomach looking at it. She never learned to swim after all.

Ahead of them, shining knights, Sylvain Gautier and Ashe Ubert flank the blue mass that is King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. The knights bow to their King, and he breaks formation, walking towards the center of the battlefield alone.

It is poor etiquette then for Edelgard to advance towards Dimitri with company. She considers asking Caspar to hang back, but decides against it; Edelgard cares far more for Caspar's feelings than she does Dimitri.

It takes about a minute before the image of Dimitri becomes clear enough to see. He looks like Hell. Hair ragged and loose around his face, cheeks gaunt with a pointed chin, his eyes cold and empty. His girth is immense, it is almost inhuman how large he is. He is so far removed from what remembers from their time at Garreg Mach.

Finally, they meet.

No one says anything for some time. Edelgard can sense Caspar longing to burst forward and rip out the man's throat, and she admires him for holding himself back. Eventually, she pricks up her chin and looks Dimitri in the eyes.

"Dimitri… whatever it is that I did to you, whatever makes you think that I was capable of something like the Tragedy of Duscur, I am sorry."

Dimitri remains still as a statue, cold and indifferent.

She continues. "I don't want to fight you. I didn't want to fight Claude either, but he chose to kill. It is not too late for you to lower your weapons and yield."

A breeze passes through and Dimitri laughs. A low, dark chuckle that sounds like crunching bones. It's a deeper voice than she's ever heard from his mouth. It sends chills through her body.

"You're late, Edelgard," Dimitri sneers. "We are all tired of waiting. Now let's separate that sick head from your neck, shall we?"

"Dimtri…" Edelgard whispers, close enough to him to feel the dissonance of being miles away. But by then, Dimtri has already turned his back and started the long walk back to his forces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things.
> 
> I intended to keep this just a Byleth/Edelgard thing, but I could not help myself once I had a scene with both Hubert and Ferdinand. 
> 
> Dimitri's one line in this chapter is taken explicitly from Chapter 12 in Azure Moon if you have him attack Edelgard. He's not really like this in Crimson Flower, he's actually at his most stable in that route, so I am obviously taking some creative liberties with him. Dimitri torturing Randolph is also exclusive to Azure Moon.
> 
> The Seteth/Flayn alignment at the end of this is definitely a bold choice. It will be developed a lot further. Church is the only route I haven't played, so I am missing some details on them. I'm just going with my gut on that. I think if Flayn were used as a pawn like this, Seteth would do this.
> 
> The next chapter is obviously going to be really intense. Things will quiet down a bit after that, especially the chapter directly afterwards, but yeah, next chapter is basically Indomitable Will on repeat. Get ready.


	6. Booming Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Indomitable Will intensifies*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus; I'm going through a lot right now.
> 
> Next two chapters are nearly done, and I'll be posting them back-to-back within the next few days.

No more words are exchanged to ignite the battle; the moment Dimitri returns to his men, it starts.

The archers aim their arrows high. They ride along the length of the beach, blotting out the sun. Rising to the peak of their arcs, light explodes in an eclipse. An all too hard to see column of fire torrents from the palms of the mages below, sending the arrows ablaze. They arc back down as makeshift meteors directly at Edelgard's shoestring army.

"Hold men!" Edelgard barks.

The arrows batter at the sands, mini-explosions whipping up a sandstorm. Edelgard narrows her eyes, just barely making out the charging silhouettes of Dimitri's army. Again, the archers aim high, a second volley of meteors coming their way. "Hold!" Edelgard shouts again.

This time an arrow slices Edelgard in the arm. The sandstorm is too thick for anyone to have seen, so she lets it pass unsaid, wincing as she tosses the burnt shaft to the ground. She hopes that she received the worst of it.

A third volley, but this time she needn't make the command to hold. Her men know. They will not separate until Dimitri's numbers are fairly whittled down. That is Seteth's strategy, and all they can do is trust his judgment.

A man screeches bloody murder into the air, and it can belong to no other than Dimitri. No other soldier would allow himself to be heard in such a grotesque way. He spares no effort in containing his unbridled fury.

Now the silhouettes become visible. Wait any longer and they will die. It's time.

"Linhardt, NOW!" Edelgard hollers.

Right on cue, a vicious torrent of wind erupts from Linhardt's hands. It catches the entirety of the sandstorm and sweeps it ahead, striking against Dimitri's legion. Horses bleet as they kick into the air as the sand blinds them, and Edelgard even gets to see Dimitri's haunted visage fade into her view before blasting back into obscurity as the sandstorms sweeps through him.

Linhardt's spell was Excalibur, one of the most complicated forms of wind magic there is. Edelgard is immediately thankful that she pushed the boy into not nodding off so much and learning the damned thing. Otherwise her entire movement might have ended right then and there.

Edelgard tightens her grip on Aymr and sizes up Dimtri's forces. The King is flanked by Sylvain and Ashe, both leading their own squads of mounted units. Honestly, too many to tell. It doesn't matter really. They'll either vanquish them or die here.

"CHARGE!" she cries out, swinging her ax right at Dimitri's head. Of course he matches her with lance. His weapon, like hers, is a relic. Made of bone, destined to shed the blood of important people like themselves.

* * *

Ugh, leave it to Edelgard to become so enraptured in a personal conflict. Edelgard and Dimitri's spat immediately pushes them away from their respective armies, leaving Ferdinand and Hubert to take the command. Though Ferdinand's command will easily be superior to Edelgard's, it is not the biggest morale booster.

The two boys exchange a look before parting ways. Ferdinand chooses to take on Sylvain's squadron, mostly because he always felt that people saw him and Sylvain as carbon copies of each other when Sylvain is anything but _un_noble. If that is a word!

Ferdinand stays on the offense, lashing at Sylvain again and again. Though it can't last forever. Sylvain wields the famed Lance of Ruin, and with each of Ferdinand's heroic lunges, the relic burns brighter, and more and more of Ferdinand's own Silver Lance chips away from the strain.

"What are you doing?!" Sylvain shouts above the tumult, his attention fully occupied by Ferdinand, giving Ferdinand's smaller squadron ample ability to take on Sylvain's legion of paladins. "Don't you get that you guys can't win this?"

Trying to make it appear as though he is putting in far less effort than he really is, Ferdinand pauses to fx his hair, which truthfully did fly over his shoulder where he does not like it. "No," he quips.

Sylvain laughs to himself. "I know Big D makes it look like he's gonna kill every last one of you and all that junk, but if you just surrender we'll probs just kill Edelgard and call it a day."

Ferdinand furrows his brow. Ha! As if that would appease him. Noticing his lance is just about finished, he takes a risk and instead of lunging at Sylvain, aims for the horse instead. It is very _un_noble of him to strike the wobbly knee of such a pleasant and loyal creature, but it is what it takes to survive. Though before Ferdinand makes his target, Sylvain manages to embed the Lance of Ruin deep into Ferdinand's shoulder, before the horse bucks the knight off and topples onto its side.

Rolling across the sand, Sylvain scrambles and scoops back up his relic, taking a knee before fully rising.

Ferdinand, on the other hand, stands tall — while bleeding profusely from the shoulder, yes — but _tall_. "I don't understand," Ferdinand says with some relish. "How you could possibly wield that thing after what the Church did to your brother?"

Sylvain grimaces. "Good thing I'm not here for the Church then."

Ferdinand leans back, momentarily eyeing the company; they still struggle with the cavalry meaning Ferdinand will need to take Sylvain down alone. Not the best odds.

"Don't think I don't notice you trying to distract me," Sylvain snaps, eyes suddenly widing with fear. Jaw gaping, he points at the sky. "Whoa, what the Hell is that?!"

Instinctively, Ferdinand whirls around to gaze up at the sky, though he spots nothing of interest. But he does hear Sylvain shout the word, "_Psyche!_" from directly behind him, shortly before feeling the blunt side of the relic smashing into his skull.

Blast it all.

* * *

Caspar's fists bleed underneath their gauntlets after they deck arrow after arrow head-on; he is thankful that Linhardt isn't around to tell him not to do that because it's stupid. Caspar knows it's stupid, he just doesn't know how else to take down Ashe, whose horse leaps off to the side every time Caspar draws close.

"Is this a good time or a bad time to bring up Lonato?" Caspar heaves.

Ashe frowns, blinking back some tears that instanetaneously springs to his eyes. "It's a bad time, Caspar! We're trying to kill each other!"

Caspar leans back and though his fingers are definitely broken — it's okay, Linhardt can fix them later — he grants Ashe the honor of air quotes. "Uh, **you** are _trying to kill me_, **I'm** just punching arrows."

"This is not a time to joke!" Ashe shouts, fingers glued to the feathers of his next arrow. "I love you, Caspar, but — we're on opposite sides!"

Caspar tries the air quotes again, because those seemed to have worked the last time. "Correction, Ashe, Dimitri and Edelgard _are on opposite sides_. That's how war works when nobles are in charge. But it doesn't have to be like that, right?"

Caspar is actually kinda sorta okay with this — if Linhardt were here, he'd just throw a wind spell at Ashe to knock him over, so he can take the precious few seconds Caspar needs to remember that this is war, and you don't talk to enemies like this when in the thick of it. Which is advice that is all well and good until you're up against your best friend from another House.

"Caspar," Ashe says seriously. "One day, you'll need to grow up. People that we love aren't neccesarily always right; I learned that the hard way through Lonato. You need to learn that with Edelgard."

Caspar grits his teeth, fingers flicking at themselves to wake them back out of the numbness. Ashe's horse clicks its hooves closer to him, and Ashe has his bow aimed straight down to knock an arrow right into Caspar's skull.

The bowstring pulls high, and though Caspar will try it, this might be the arrow that pieces his gauntlet; it's already pretty worn.

But Ashe freezes as a different arrow from afar _fwoosh!_es through the air and nails his horse from behind. The creature, which Caspar is pretty sure Ashe affectionately named _Loog_, bucks and nearly knocks the silver haired boy off the saddle. It tromps past Caspar, Ashe barely holding on, and Caspar lunges forward, uppercutting probably-named-Loog in the jaw. The creature's body goes slack and it falls over onto its side.

Ashe rolls off, hands desperately swiping at his quiver and bow, but before his bent fingers can snag it, a foot kicks it all aside.

"Handsintheair, handsintheair!" Bernadetta shouts past her clamped shut eyes, body bent so deep down it looks like she's sitting on an invisible chair. All over, she shakes, and Caspar can plainly see the fresh cuts and scrapes all over her legs and arms. It looks like she took quite the fall. But at least she's alive.

Caspar rushes at Bernadetta and very gently — he's learned the hard way at least twenty times with Bernie that you need to handle her like you might an eggshell — hugs her. He wants to spin her through the air and parade her around the army, shouting about how she's alive, Bernie's alive, but they are still fighting.

"Ah!" Bernadetta screams. "Too tight too tight!"

Caspar realizes that he handled Bernie like an egg _yolk_ that he wants to scramble, and not a shell, and sets her down fast. She quickly pulls her bow back on Ashe. "Um," she stutters. "Is—is my pegasus okay? I can't find her."

Caspar frowns; her pegasus is probably dead, but now might be a bad time to —

Shadows pass overhead and several pegasi charge at the sand, looping back up right before colliding with the ground. But with each turn, a knight drops off the back of the beautiful creature and rolls into combat position, lances pointed at Caspar and Bernadetta's throats.

Ingrid, the tall blonde one, flashes a look of hatred at the two of them and calmly unsheathes her own lance: Luin, another one of those dumb relics Caspar can't use. But that's okay — he can handle Ingrid, he doesn't know her that well. Sure, he helped her out at that one time her weirdo fiance ambushed her at a freaking volcano, but —

An abnormally strong gust of wind sweeps sand off the ground and right into his eyes. He raises his gauntlet to block it away, and peers between the grinds to see silhouettes drawing closer. One, large and bulky, the other thin and rounded. Definitely Gilbert and his daughter, Annette.

Caspar gulps; he knows Annette pretty well.

Why does this keep happening?

* * *

Felix trains his bow high alongside the ascension of Petra's wyvern. He squints through the sun, commanding his army of archers to hold. No one would be so stupid as to taunt an army of bowmen with their flying mount; obviously the Black Eagles are up to something.

But then Petra draws her bow, and her wyvern extends its wings, eclipsing itself before the sun. Obviously, that is the moment she is going to shoot down at them; it's when they can't see what she's doing. Goddess, who trained these Black Eagles anyways? Felix really hopes it wasn't Jeritza, because he learned so much from that ghastly boar, and he'd hate to find out that the man was a big dummy.

His archers don't need the command; they shuffle out of their positions to dodge the soon-to-be incoming surge of arrows and snap back their bowstrings for their onslaught of killshots. But that strategy proves fault, as Petra materializes in the air right before them. She lands directly in front of his archers and makes short work of three of them with her killing edge, the knife spilling blood from their throats easily.

Even Felix is unprepared for the trick, and is forced to use his bow as a makeshift shield. It's yet another moment that gives him the opportunity to curse his stupid father; five years ago, his father asked him to protect some villagers in their territory in exchange for a relic, the Aegis Shield. But the villagers were stupid and kept fleeing their guard, dooming themselves, so Felix's stupid dad said _No no no!_ to giving him the dumb shield that would be really helpful right now.

But Petra is at least physically weaker than Felix and though his bow takes quite the cut, he lives. Felix backs up, sparing a glance up at the sky to see a shock of green hair peering over the ornery head of Petra's wyvern. She probably had that lazy mage warp her down. Dammit! Why can't Mercedes and Annette do that?! He's gonna give them a hard time later after he survives this dumb assault.

Felix tosses his bow to the side, and pulls over his back-up bow; he's not matching swords with Petra, not after watching her so effortlessly jab her swords besides her hip to where she can't see and still manage to impale one of his men in the knee. She moves like the wind itself, and though Dimitri would implore Felix to obliterate her into a pile of flesh and bone, he'd rather be more careful than that.

Yeah, yeah, knights are supposed to chivalrous and loyal, blah blah blah, there's a _reason_ Dimitri chose him over Ingrid as his second-in-command. It's because he's always right even though no one likes that.

* * *

Regardless of how well her Eagles strategized this, they are still outnumbered and Edelgard still finds herself cornered by Dimitri, her back to the ocean. Panting, Edelgard looks Dimitri in the eye, mind turning over solution after solution on how to escape.

Dimitri grins like a hunter anticipating the kill. "This war has gone on for too long, El. Children have been born who know nothing of a peaceful Fodlan, but tomorrow they will get just that."

Edelgard grimaces at the titan. "Do you honestly think my death will trigger that? I fight for ideals, Dimitri, ideals that the people will — "

Dimitri smiles, like he expected this. "_Some_ people, El. Others, especially where I come from, see you as nothing more than a war monger, the villain we will only hear of in history books. I understand what you fight for, but you cut your path in blood. No one will forgive you for that, even those that you save."

In her panicked delirium, she sees how he is looming right ahead of her. Fearfully, she takes another step back, but her heel does not press into the sand as anticipated, it stops as it falls onto something hard. The object crunches into bits under her feet, and when finally she steps back, she nearly slips on the hard surface replacing the water.

Edelgard spares a moment to glance down and sees a trail of ice constructing itself on the surface, leading deeper into the ocean where the waves breach high. Glancing off to the east, she sees a mage watching her, face scrunched up in concentration. Far enough to be blurred, but the blue hair carefully braided into a crown makes her identity all too obvious.

"Marianne?" Edelgard mutters. How? Why would Marianne be here? She hates Edelgard, right? For what happened ot Claude and Lysithea...

One by one, a rainbow of hair colors erupt from behind Marianne. Carrot orange, lime green, bright pink, dark purple, and your average blonde. The troops dissipate fast, clearly under some higher command. Edelgard isn't sure whether or not she should put her faith into the Golden Deer, until a black helm rises above the horizon.

Red eyes gleam from behind the commander's skull, scythe swinging lazily through the air. If Edelgard is to survive this, she will likely never hear the end of the Death Knight's indignant complaints at not being formally invited to this battle. She can already hear him lamenting over his celebratory ice cream, _"I have already kidnapped the Flayn girl before; obviously, I was the most qualified."_

Edelgard gingerly steps back again, testing the strength of the ice; it's not very reassuring. But she fares better on that than she does at the shoreline, so she turns and charges down the bridge, armored boots crashing into the ice and shattering the path in her wake.

Groaning, Dimitri moves into pursuit, the ice collapsing back into the murky green waters following his advance.

* * *

Byleth has never faced an opponent so physically strong before. When she swings her blade with the intention of killing Dedue, his fists bounce against her sword harmlessly. While his knuckles likely bruise underneath the gauntlets, they are wounds that she will never see.

She pauses at the edge of the cliff and spares a glance past her shoulder. Below her Eagles are at war. While their numbers are low, they have drawn out so much power from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus that one would think that both sides were evenly matched in size, when that is so far from the truth.

If anything positive comes from today, it will be that Byleth now knows that her Eagles are ready to walk this path without her if need be. But that won't be the case. She drags her knuckle against the blood running down her cheek and steels herself for another round of punches from Dedue.

But Dedue doesn't swing at her just yet. He, too, is mesmerized by the battle below. "I am impressed that your forces are holding against ours so well," he says in his usual listless tone. "His Majesty was wise when he chose to bring so many of his own down to the Coast."

Dedue's knuckles rest against his thighs, but Byleth does not drop her sword. Upon meeting the man at Garreg Mach, she had made many wrong assumptions about him. Today, she cannot afford to make another.

"I don't want to talk," Byleth says.

Dedue flashes a smile so warm it appears he might even lean back and read from a storybook for her. "No, you never did like talking, did you? Forgive me, Professor."

Dedue throws himself into another flurry. His fists fly at her in an onslaught that leaves little room for strategizing. The best she can do is defend strike after strike, each move pushing her another half meter or so closer to the edge. If she continues to let him overwhelm her, she will lose.

So she tries something new. Cleaves her sword through the air and just before it makes contact with a punch aimed at her chest, she pulls the sword away, _just_ scraping his fist with enough brunt to knock his fist away. Her sword flies back, her right arm wavering like the waves that come in below, and she moves in for the kill, slicing through Dedue's rib cage and clean through his back.

Deedue coughs when his chest presses against hers. She is sure that it is blood he is spitting out, but she would prefer not to watch. Not to know. After all, this is her first classmate she has killed.

But all too soon, Dedue's fists rise and clap to the sides of her head, rushing Byleth's head down and into Dedue's raised knee. She falls backwards, coughing blood up herself, and looks up at the knight as he pulls the sword from his abdomen, tossing it aside as if it were nothing. His teeth gnash now and he runs at her again.

She peers past her shoulder and at the precipice. She clamps her eyes tight and throws herself flat to the ground, and kicks her legs up and into Dedue's stomach. His weight threatens to snap her legs in two, but she perseveres and flips hims up and over the edge. Not even before Byleth can get up does she hear the horrible crash.

Turning, Byleth sees Dedue splayed out across the stone below. Not long enough of a drop to kill most people, but likely enough to snap bones, especially under the pressure of all that armor. Carefully, she lowers herself down the cliff face, skidding when needed, and lands amidst a mist of the dust she has kicked up.

Closer now, Byleth can hear Dedue groaning. He's alive, but likely never going to serve his King again. She can only imagine how Hubert would feel in such a situation and decides to finish him.

Unsure of where her sword was thrown to, Byleth picks up the largest rock her arms can haul into the air and steps over what will be Dedue's corpse. She almost closes her eyes, but knows that this will not be the last time she kills a friend; she should get used to it.

It's a good thing Byleth watches him so carefully because otherwise she wouldn't notice him meekly raising a hand to his stomach and motioning for her to stop. She drops the rock besides her and crouches down. "What?" she asks.

Dedue clamps his jaw tight and his eyes water, left hand buried into his satchel. Suspicious, but likely harmless. The satchel is far too small to harbor anything of serious consequence.

"I will not fail my friends," Dedue says, possibly more to himself than her. The haze that drifts past his eyes makes her wonder if he even knows she is there. "I will not fail Dimtri."

"Dedue?" Byleth steps back, hand gently rolling across the rock, finding a groove to lift it by.

Then she notices it.

A Crest Stone.

Byleth is too slow. By the time the boulder is backover her head, Dedue's eyes are already red, his skin peeling apart into black scales, his armor exploding into shrapnel as his limbs extend into these grotesque, shadowy appendages.

* * *

Edelgard nearly trips as a wave strikes her ankle. This will not do. She must stand her guard and fight back, not retreat deeper and deeper into the ocean. So she prepares her ax, noting Dimitri's teeth gleaming in the sun as he prepares his lance.

"At the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion," Dimitri swipes at the air. "You joked to me, remarked how one day we might be fighting a real battle there when we go to war."

Edelgard patiently waits for him to finish. As he draws closer, she sinks deeper into the ground. He is massive, his arms wider than anything she's seen. It's as if he sacrificed everything so that he could properly kill his opponents.

"Did you know?" Dimitri asks, picking up the pace, the tip of his lance etching a line through the ice as he surges forward.

Edelgard hesitates. "Yes. It took years, Dimitri. And what did this plan take you? Five minutes?"

A flash of anger across his face that pleases the sadist in her. He swings at her head, his technique not even close to fitting the lance that he wields. But she is sure his raw strength has made such concerns trivial.

"You kidnapped a little girl so you could — what? Launch your poor man's idea of an ambush?" Edelgard sneers.

Dimitri laughs, almost as if her spite delights him. "You are going to die, El."

"Maybe," she leaps to the left, narrowly dodging a swipe that would have spilled her guts over the ice. She lands on a new ice bridge that materializes beneath her. Marianne must be very talented to keep up with her movements. "If I die though, my legacy will live on through my Eagles; they know what to do. Can you say the same for Faerghus?"

His eye twitches as he steps onto the new platform.

"Or have you spent the past five years alone in your castle, pushing away everyone who could have helped you?"

He growls. "You don't know me."

She smiles wryly. "I'm familiar with your type."

So many years passed and Edelgard thought that her letter to Dimitri contained the words that surely burned at her tongue for so long but she was wrong. _These_ are the words she's longed for, and to spit them at Dimitri's gaunt expression makes her feel strong.

She must live. At least until she can perform the same for her dreadful uncle.

Dimitri raises his lance, but an ear splitting shriek drowns out the loudest of sounds, even the waves. Heads turn and weapons drop as all eyes fall onto the horrible Black Beast that seemingly erupts out of nowhere, growing taller and taller until its sheer girth blots out the sun. It roars again and drags horrible talon through the mountain across it, sending stone cascading down the sides.

Dimitri whirls on his heel. "You brought that hideous thing _here_?!"

Edelgard does not hear him. Her heart pounds all the way to her ears, her legs shaking in place. Is Thales here? Is that — his intervention?

"Answer my question, woman!" Dimitri barks.

Edelgard snaps out of it and looks to him warily. "Dimitri, I swear on my life — I did not."

He raises an eyebrow at her. "I don't even know why I ask you questions."

Again, that horrible contempt rises in her, forcing her smirk into a sharp sneer that cuts high into her cheek. "I don't know why you do either."

* * *

The day that Edelgard assured Byleth that no Demonic Beasts had been used since the Holy Tomb was a good one — Tuesday specifically. It was sunny.

Obviously, Byleth was concerned about the morality of enslaving monsters, but there was a practical portion as well; fighting those things was a pain in the ass. What with the barrage of second winds and shit, ugh. Though the Black Beast towers over Byleth, it's not too hard for her to hit the thing and kill it. She finds the Sword of the Creator trapped under a pile of stone, and once she frees it, she positively flays the belly of the Black Beast.

It bleeds green, but only gets stronger, like all the monsters she has thought. It digs its claws into the cliff face, sending an avalanche of stone down after her. She dodges it, but once blinded by the dust, fails to see a claw coming towards her. She is smashed into the wall and collapses in a heap. Just one swipe and she already has broken bones.

Everything burns, and the claw flies over her, ready to swoop down and squash her out like a troublesome fly. This is how she dies, probably.

It is only when Byleth spots Seteth does she find the will to raise her sword again. She lunges forward and stabs at his wyvern, the Sword of the Creator extending far enough to slash the creature across the forehead. But it rolls aside, landing directly besides the Black Beast. Seteth's eyes shoot out of his sockets when he reaches out, "I am going to ignore that you just attacked me, Professor. Take my hand. I'm getting you out of here."

Byleth isn't stupid; there's no way Seteth would ever allign himself with the Empire.

She reels back, finding the strength to roll under a swipe from the monster. "No. You're ambushing me again."

"Again?" Seteth squeaks. "I would never — "

"You ambushed us at Garreg Mach several times over."

Once at the first siege, twice at the second. Imagine her surprise when she was suddenly surrounded by three fortress knights, four warriors, and a bishop. Or that time eight falcon knights came in from their behind. Goodness, Byleth is thankful that Sothis is no longer sentient, since she would have made a field day out of reprimanding Byleth for abusing the Divine Pulse technique.

Seteth scratches his goatee. "Ah, so I did!" He almost seems amused. "It does seem like something I would do today, thank you for pointing that out, but no, I'm here to help."

Byleth shakes her head and steps back, ducking below yet another swipe. "Why would you help us?"

Seteth frowns, and the wrinkles in his forehead shows. "I don't like people who attack my daugh—sister."

Byleth's face falls. "You've already told me about the whole being Flayn's dad thing.."

"Did I?" Seteth wipes the sweat from his brow. "Thank the Goddess, it's a hard act to keep up."

"You're really bad at it."

Seteth stares daggers at her. "I'm having second thoughts about saving you."

Byleth frowns, gazing up at the maw of the Black Beast. "Alright fine."

* * *

Edelgard's heel presses against the ridge of the ice, almost slipping past the edge, but she catches herself and readies her ax. The two royals are pretty far out now, the waves striking her knees as they pass by. It takes everything she has ever built for herself to not slip and fall. Though it seemingly takes Dimitri far less energy; he marches through the waves as if they are all just fragments of Edelgard's dreams.

Eventually, he gets close enough to reach her with his lance. He smiles, almost licking his lips, as he raises it.

"Do you ever hear their voices, El?" he asks suddenly, scowling, body too lax to fight.

She remains still, not sure what to say. No, she doesn't hear voices, because _she_ didn't kill them. But it's too late to convince him of that.

He chuckles. "Ha, I should have known. Well I hear them, El. I hear my father… I hear Glenn… I hear your mother, and in my darkest moments, I hear you."

Still, she says nothing.

"You must think me crazy," Dimitri says. "How wonderful it must be to be Edelgard von Hresvelg, the Emperor who gets a good night's sleep each evening. I wish I could show you, El, show you what it means to live like this. But there's no time. I need this war to end and… the only way for that to be is for you to die."

She grits her teeth. She really doesn't want to cut Dimitri down. But it would be foolish to tell him what she told Claude, how she doesn't have to kill him if he just stands down… she is the one with her back to the wall. He is stronger and far more blood thirsty. She must kill him. Or him her.

"I do hear voices," she says. "They aren't like yours."

Something crosses Dimitri's face and for a moment, it feels like this might work.

"My brothers and sisters, you never met them, but there were ten," she tries to keep her voice steady, but it is hard when her calves struggle to stay straight when the waves smash against them, trying to roll her off the ice. "The people whom you truly hate, they chained me up in a dungeon. One by one, they experimented on us, trying to push the limits of Crest science. You must know by now that I have two Crests?"

He doesn't react.

"Don't lie to me, Dimitri," Edelgard leans back. "You took Lysithea. She's like me, you must know this by now."

"You're lying," he says quickly, pupils dilating. "I don't believe you."

"Dimitri, please," she snarls. "The people who did this to me — they're responsible for Duscur."

This is sloppy. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"If you join me, Dimitri, if you walk this path alongside me," she pauses to take a measured breath. "We can vanquish them. But if you don't — "

"I don't," Dimitri says simply, slashing his lance against the ice and taking one menacing step forward. He is close enough now to kill her; it would be foolish to continue talking. So she steels herself for combat when —

— an arrow?

An arrow flies through the air and strikes Dimitri directly in the shoulder. He reels back and howls in pain, hand reaching to tear the shaft from his flesh, but a hand reaches around from behind him, further diving the arrow deeper into Dimitri, who roars again, knees buckling out from under him.

It's only when Dimitri's massive girth falls does Edelgard meet eyes with the culprit: Felix Fraldarius.

"F-Felix," Dimitri groans, eyes beginning to pop out again. "W-why?"

Felxi doesn't meet eyes with his King. He struts past him like he is nothing. "You shouldn't be fighting out here, you Boar," he spits. "But that should be enough to stop you. So go to the infirmary or something, I don't know. I don't care. Just live. We need you alive."

Dimitri's face falls. He knows that Felix is right, he must.

Felix turns to her, and hangs his bow back over her shoulder, quickly unsheathing his sword. "I can handle Edelgard anyways."

* * *

Mercedes knew that fighting her former classmates would curdle her stomach, and that it might throw off her black magic, but she has to try. If not for Dimitri, for Ingrid, Sylvain, and Ashe who fight alongside her, who have taken a beaten for their King. It is a miracle no one has died yet, though she has her concerns for Hubert and Ferdinand who move as slow as the undead, bleeding and screaming with each slinking movement.

But no matter how many fireballs she throws out, the Black Eagles seem to keep reappearing to fight her, and when their forces dwindle, she finds herself aiming at Golden Deer.

Kidnapping Lysithea was wrong. They all knew that, even Dedue. Dimitri and Gilbert are the only ones convinced that it was acceptable.

Eventually, after blasting Raphael and Leonie back with her wind magic, Mercedes takes a breather to check on Annette and her father. Annette's white robe are soaked with blood, and her axe work is getting sloppy. Gilbert is worse for wear too, but Mercedes feels less inclined to help him.

Which is wrong. Mercedes know it is wrong to not help him, she just doesn't like what he did to Annette; the man is blessed that his daughter is so forgiving.

But if she is to use a Physic spell, she might as well Fortify in its place. She raises the Cadeus Staff high to help, when her eyes catch on the horrific visage of the Death Knight — no, her brother, scythe held high. She notices his skull rattle, the dull booms of his laughter piercing through the shouts and cries of combat.

"Emile!" Mercedes screams, dashing across the sand. The Death Knight's horse stops in place, hooves kicking high.

"_Mercedes,_" the Death Knight's distorted voice echoes. "_Get out of my way_."

Mercedes shakes her head; she has been waiting five years for this moment. "No. Emile, I — there is so much to talk about, but we need to — "

"_No words_," the Death Knight angles his scythe at her. "_You die._"

Mercedes should run; she knows that he is renowneed for being so ruthless, knows that whoever she loved before probably doesn't lie underneath the mask. But she has to try. Her voice quakes, denying the courage she wants to express when she steps closer to his scythe. "Emile."

The Death Knight says nothing and raises his scythe, and Mercedes winces even though she shouldn't. She is supposed to trust people.

"Yo!" a nasally voice cries out. Mercedes opens her eyes to find Caspar standing before her, gauntlets raised. It is obvious to her, a healer, that his fingers are broken, but he does a good job at holding it together. "Listen to your sister, man. I don't care that this is a war, you gotta stop being a dingus."

"_A… dingus?_" the Death Knight tilts his head to the side. "_I do not like the sound of that._"

"Good," Caspar puffs out his chest. "Now listen to your sister."

Caspar whirls around, and holds his splayed out hands before Mercedes. He whispers above the unfolding cacophony, "Hey, not for nothin', but I got an ulterior motive. Linhardt's busy tricking Felix and his guys with his warp magic — oh, wait, dang Felix is like on that ice bridge, hey when did that happen? — anyways— um, can you heal my hands while you talk to your — "

"Oh Caspar," Mercedes almost growls, immediately launching into a wave of recover spells to heal the headstrong boy, all the while tilting her chin up to look her brother in the eyes. "Emile, I — "

* * *

Felix is much harder to fight than Dimitri. While Dimitri spends half his time gloating with the knowledge that he will win, Felix isn't so confident so he strikes like someone who will drop dead any second. His swordwork is immaculate, and it's only because she's familiar with Jeritiza's technique that she knows how to match it.

But still, she grows tired. She's never been good at duels. Either for personal reasons or pure technique, she fares better cleaving through crowds.

Again, Edelgard finds her back to the wall. Marianne, off in the distance, struggles to keep the ice bridge up with Edelgard, and lags behind, leaving Edelgard at a dead end. Felix grins, closing in on her fast with his sword.

She doesn't want to do this; she doesn't want to be the one to kill after decrying the bloodshed for so long, but Felix leaves Edelgard with no choice.

She sweeps Aymr over the ice, unleashing the power of her Raging Storm technique. Fire from the sharp edges of the ax lick the ice, melting it back into steam. Melting the ice that Felix walks on.

Felix leaps into the air to avoid falling into the murky depths, throttling towards Edelgard completely defenseless. It is cruel to attack someone in such a position, but she's done far worse.

Edelgard pivots, letting Felix fall into where she was standing, and swings her ax directly into his spine. She jerks it deeper into his flesh, shoving him up so that he is standing across her. She withdraws and watches him turn slowly, the glazed over look in his eyes. His mouth opens to say something, but those words become gurgles. His legs fall out from underneath him and he slips off the bridge and into the ocean, the waves knocking his corprse under.

Quick and decisive.

Edelgard looks up; she is far out now. Far enough that she can barely see the action on the beach, far enough that — that Dimitri didn't turn around to go home, that he stayed and watched and saw everything. And far enough that no one can come out to save her from his terrible wrath as he stomps over.

* * *

It is exhilarating fighting while airborne; Seteth's wyvern shoots up the length of the Black Beast, and it is almost like flying alongside a fortress. The thing is just so massive, even when compared to other Demonic Beasts.

"I still don't think we should fight this thing," Seteth frowns.

"It's Dedue," Byleth grunts, nearly slipping off the back of the wyvern. She tightens her grip on her old boss' waist. "We need to put him out of his misery. I can only imagine the transformation being very painful."

They shoot past the head and hit the sky full-on.

"Well, do you have a plan?" Seteth spits as the air rushes into them.

"Yeah, turn around," Byleth grunts, reaching into Seteth's hilt and pulling free his glowing Spear of Assal.

"Guide me well," Seteth grunts back, the wyvern flopping a full 180 degrees, diving back into air that now rushes into them from below.

The claws rush at them, but sink away as the wvvern folds in to squeeze past them. Now it is like a fortress is getting off of its feet to attack them, but they make it past and dart at the head. Closing her eyes, Byleth leans off the wyvern and smashes the spear directly into the Crest Stone wedged into the Beast's head…

...and kills it. It reels back its head and shrieks to the heavens, body shrinking fast.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would want to lay Dedue to rest, or at least check that his body is still there upon the transformation, but there is no time. Without ceremony, the wyvern boosts itself high and gazes over the battlefield.

Immediately, Byleth notices a bright red dot standing on top of ice in the middle of the ocean. Surely, that is Edelgard. A moment later, Byleth notices what must be Dimitri approaching her fast. "No," she murmurs. This is from her nightmares.

"How did they turn the water to ice?" Seteth wonders out loud, looking from side to side.

"He's going to kill her," Byleth says, meekly pulling at the reigns. "Seteth, we must — "

But the wyvern shoots into a far different directions. A rage unlike any other thumps in Byleth's chest, and her body doubles over in pain. It's possible that this is how normal people feel, it's probably just a heartbeat. But, for her? Her heart has never beat before, so why does it now? Why does she have to feel so much pain for someone else? "Seteth, no, we — " she groans from another palpitation. "Edelgard, must save — "

Seteth points into the distance. "Do you see that?"

Byleth leans over his shoulder and squints. It looks like — is that Marianne?!

"Marianne must be performing the spell," Seteth explains. "And if you notice…"

"Oh," Byleth grunts. Knights from Faerghus are closing in on her, and the other Golden Deer have already dispered to save her Eagles. Marianne eyes the knights with so much fear, but stays still enough to keep her focus on the ocean.

"If they kill her," Seteth says. "Edelgard loses the ice and dies. We have to save Marianne first, I'm sorry, Professor."

"B-but…"

"Please, Profes—_Byleth_," Seteth does seem empathetic at least. "I know you care for her, but — "

"I love her!" Byleth blurts out.

…

Wait…

L-love?! Since—since when?! Oh no… oh no! Is that why her stupid heart is —

Seteth is surprisingly silent. Even worse.

"Um," Byleth murmurs. She peeks at his side, and notices how flushed his cheeks are. He immediately turns away from her.

"Sorry," Seteth sniffs loudly. "I, erm, did not expect you to say that."

"I didn't either," Byleth says faintly. "She — she doesn't know."

"Oh no," Seteth looks back at her and forces a wiry grin. "I am very bad at keeping secrets, Professor, as you know."

But Byleth doesn't laugh. This isn't funny. Edelgard is going to get killed, and she's going to be off saving the wrong person. "Seteth…"

Seteth gets closer and touches Byleth's cheek, almost like Jeralt used to do when she was little. "Listen. We will save Marianne, that action protects Edelgard. Edelgard can handle Dimitri, you need to trust that she can do this, okay?"

His voice waivers, as if he's made a similar choice before.

Byleth nods. She has to. It is the only way.

Seteth smiles, and somehow, it makes her feel better.

* * *

Felix tumbles away into the ocean as if he were nothing, and just like that, he becomes another voice likely to torment Dimitri in his sleep.

"What have you done?" Dimitri screams, his voice so hoarse it snags on every bone in his body. He quivers in fear of what he is about to do to Edelgard, advancing towards her fast. "What have you done?!"

Edelgard looks at him cooly. "Calm down."

How. How could she be so cold? Does she care nothing for life?

"Be still," Edelgard clips. "Remember what you did to Randolph."

"_Edelgard has a point,"_ Felix's voice jokes. "_What you did to Randolph was far worse."_

Dimitri just glares. He hears the rolling waves so well now, he's sure his soldiers have ceased fire to witness this. Pitiful. He wants to turn back to them and let his eyes haunt them; even if he is to die in this confrontation, his soldiers should never surrender. The war is greater than any of them. But if he is to turn, he risks his life to Edelgard because he is sure she will play dirty. She always has.

Dimitri can't imagine not looking at her anyways. She deserves every moment of guilt and resentment. Slowly now, he stomps across the ice. "I am going to tear you limb from limb."

"Lot of talk from someone who's failed to draw blood," Edelgard sneers, eyes retreating behind her, carefully observing the waves. This is his moment; he thrusts his lance at her but she swiftly dodges the blow, leaping off the ice bridge and onto a new one that materializes below her.

It's foolish really. He cannot escape her. Every retreat just distances her from her loyal knights. When he leaps onto her glacier, he feels the ice tumble away at his feet. He hears the splash, but no landing. They are far out now, too far to stand in. He slashes his lance at the ice as he nears her.

"You don't know how to swim, do you El?" he asks. "I believe you told me once while teaching me how to dance."

Edelgard shrinks at his hulking form. "I… taught you how to dance?"

He blinks. "You don't remember?"

"No, I've locked those times away…" Edelgard frowns. "Dimitri, I — "

"Lucky you," he coos, and charges again. Stabs at her over and over again. She writhes, twists in inhuman away to avoid his killing strokes, for some reason reluctant to take her own shot at him. It is pathetic.

Waves roll over the ice and slam into his knees. Dimitri nearly loses his footing over it, but it doesn't happen again. One wave rolls to his thighs and he charges through, momentarily pausing to brace himself, but he will let nothing stand in the way of his murder. It has been too long and Edelgard must die now.

Finally, Edelgard draws Aymr and Dimitri feels her full strength behind the swing. She really is quite the opponent when she is trying. But she is slow and overconfident in her abilities; she can't win now, he's gained too much ground.

But then there is a loud boom. It is deafening, so loud that it snaps Dimitri out of the moment and suddenly he is a little boy in Fhirdiad. Carriages are flipped over and burning, soldiers are dragging their slain bodies across the ground, and more things erupt in fiery wrath. He knows it is a flashback but it is hard to pull himself away from. But he must or else Edelgard will kill him again.

Returning to the moment, he sees a massive wave towering over even him. That is the source of the boom. It crosses over the sun, splintering down as the light ignites in a blip. "No," he shouts under his breath, lunging at Edelgard one last time. But he misses as the ice finally cracks underneath him. "NO!"

That was his last chance.

The wave knocks the wind out of him, piling onto his chest and dumping him into the sea.

* * *

Edelgard hits the ocean floor as soon as Dimitri does, though she falls headfirst. She cranes her neck up, salt water spilling into her nose, ears, and mouth painfully, the pressure building. Truth be told, she never learned to swim and the heavy armor she traditionally wears for her Empire isn't allowing her a moment to learn.

It is murky down here. Green, white specks drifting through the void. All she can see is Dimitri and the sand. He looks at her, eyes opening wide. His mouth barks something obscene, bubbles throttling her way. But all too soon, the tide grips him and drags him away from her. She herself is dragged in the opposite direction. It's the riptide.

But Edelgard is then flipped. Her shoulder strikes the ground, and the riptide rolls her against the ground like a barrel. Her own limbs bounce into her like she's some sort of doll. Her head lolls about uselessly, and she tries screaming but there is no control down here.

Somehow, she finds a way to break free from the armor. She kicks off the ground and moves her arms frantically, popping her head above the waters. She gasps for air, but nothing breathes in. She tries to speak but no sound comes out but a hollow keening. She tries to find help, but her head is turned towards the horizon. She falls back down and strikes the ground, the water again and again ravaging her, killing her, for daring to try. Her vision begins to give out, black flickering over the depressing void before her.

She would like to take this moment to claim a noble thought before death, but she can only conceive of survival. She never thought she'd be this pathetic.

She surfaces again, and what's left of her vision shows her that's drifted even farther out. She tries to speak before falling back under. This is how it felt to be underground when she was little; alone, helpless, lost.

Her head pounds and her heartbeat accelerates. She's choking and soon will be dead.

Edelgard tries one last time. This time not even her head breaches the surface, it's just her hand. Fingers brush against air, and slink down fast.

…

Something grabs her. It feels almost inhuman with the wrath it strikes her with, it must be Death arriving to claim her.

Her body is pulled up and she gasps again as water dribbles from her mouth, light blinding her weary eyes. She falls, and feels moving flesh underneath her fingertips. She freezes, and lets her feet fall. Her calves scratch against the leathery hide of a wyvern. She reaches up and touches her savior's chest, and finds their heart.

No heartbeat.

"B-Byleth?" she finally manages to release.

"Yes," her teacher responds. "It's okay. You're safe now."

Edelgard leans her forehead against Byleth's shoulder and tries to think, though it is hard, her mind still rattled. "We — we must return, Dimitri, he's — "

"It's over," Byleth says calmly. "We have eyes on Lysithea, Mercedes gave her location to Jeritza. We're retreating now. Dimitri isn't giving chase, and I am with you."

Oh, that is good. Lysithea alive… Blue Lions cooperating… no need to take Flayn. Excellent. But still, she cannot run. She must assist her Eagles, make sure they are okay, that they will be okay. She is Emperor, it is what she does.

"My teacher…" Edelgard strains to say. "I am indebted to you but I must…"

"Sh," Byleth whispers. "It's alright. Please. Allow me to take you to a place only I know of."

Edelgard hesitates. It feels wrong not to return for her men immediately, but if her commander is permitting it… she coughs and wipes her face. "Okay. Take me away."

Edelgard cannot see Byleth's face, but she can tell they are smiling.

"Gladly."


	7. Silent Voices

Water rolls off Dimitri's cape as his head breaches the ocean's surface. Face pale and almost translucent, he stomps over to where his men wait for him. Based on how no one is engaged in combat, and how the Black Eagle Strike Force is out of sight, it is already obvious to him what has happened and there will be Hell to pay for this transgression.

Dimitri opens his mouth to speak, but instead doubles over coughing. His bleeding form sags under the weight of so much water, and his knees sink into the mud. Black flickers over his vision and then consumes everything.

In the void, Dimitri imagines himself at the bottom of the ocean, all four limbs digging into the sands. He bows his head as Felix approaches him. The boy reaches forward and gets a firm grip on Dimitri's shoulder. "_I told you to run, you idiot. Why did you stay?"_

Dimitri gazes up at his lost friend and touches his hand. Cold, he feels so cold. "I — I had to avenge you, Felix, I — "

Felix leans back, shaking his head with such pity. He frowns, not from his usual disgust, but from something else. "_You really didn't have to."_

When Dimitri awakens, he is in the same spot, head bowed into Mecedes' hands. She mutters incantations under her breath, stopping when she notices that her King is back to consciousness. Slowly, she steps back to rejoin the other Blue Lions, who stare back at Dimitri with such sadness. A few remaining strings of soldiers wait on stand-by, but far enough away to be out of earshot. Dimitri is sure that his Lions will want to _reason _with him.

"_A good king listens to his subjects, Dimitri, do not forget," _the familiar voice of his father instructs.

"_Ha? Listen? You died too soon to understand your son," _Felix cackles.

The usual banter of the deceased, Dimitri can handle it. Slowly, he rises to his feet, looking over his men. Sylvain and Ashe seem to be the most bloodied and it makes Dimitri smile. _Good soldier, _he wants to say, but his voice is still strained from the ocean that nearly claimed him.

Sylvain speaks without being prompted, "We made an agreement with the Empire. We gave Lysithea's location away in exchange for a ceasefire."

What?! After all the work they — how could they be so _stupid_ as to — he is speechless. He searches his troops for reactions, but they all seem oddly still, though the tension lives on in their eyes. He is sure that they have already thoroughly debated the topic while he remained in the dark. But when did they betray him? Goddess help them if it was before he even passed out…

Sylvain's eyes linger on Mercedes for an unusually long time before he pivots back to Dimitri. "This needs to stop, Dimitri."

Dimitri does not hesitate. His hand jumps at Sylvain's throat and despite still being on the verge of death, he lifts Sylvain high into the air. "Why?"

Felix laughs off in the distance. "_I'd like to see you try that with me still around."_

Ingrid steps in, gently resting her hand on Dimitri's wrist, and when that proves to do nothing, she applies more pressure. "Dimitri, you have to know that this ambush was wrong, and we've lost enough."

The hurt in their eyes tells him that they cry for Felix, Felix who died defending his Kingdom. Felix always loathed senseless violence, he likely would have approved of the ceasefire. But Felix was also misguided, and what he would think doesn't really matter anymore.

Dimitri leers at Ingrid, barely able to hold himself back from hurting her. "Then Felix died for nothing."

"_Yeah, according to you," _Felix scoffs.

Sylvain grabs Dimitri's wrist now and squeezes hard. "How would it look when years from now, the people start talking about the Holy King of Faerghus took over all of Fodlan by kidnapping one little girl?"

Dimitri grits his teeth, finally dropping his lieutenant, burying both hands behind his cape. "It was necessary. We had to lure that woman in, and it worked, did it not? We just failed to kill her..."

The Blue Lions all exchange a look. Based on Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe's anxious expressions, there was likely an argument preceding all of this. Only Gilbert seems sure of his King, but — wait. Where's…

"_Your Highness," _Dedue's ghost says in the same tone he always speaks in, as if he were still alive. "_I failed you."_

"Where's Dedue?" Dimitri quakes, though he already knows the answer. He already hears his voice...

Gilbert opens his mouth to explain, but Sylvain cuts him off. "Dead. Our scouts found his body where that Black Beast fell — "

Dimitri nearly cracks his own teeth into pieces. "Monsters."

"No," Sylvain shakes his head, and pulls something from a satchel. It's a small crystal, cold as stone, the off-white color indicating it used to be more vibrant. "We found this Crest Stone in his hand."

Dimitri's eyes pop wide open. "So Edelgard — that _thing_ must have forced Dedue to — "

"_No! _Goddess no!" Sylvain rubs his temple, and Gilbert seems as infuriated as Dimitri. At least _he_ is still loyal. "Our friends would never — "

"_Your_ friends," Dimitri seethes.

Sylvain clamps his jaw tight, resisting something likely very scathing. He shakes his head sternly. "They would _never_. Listen, we all know how much Dedue and Felix meant to you… but can't you see what they just sacrificed?"

Dimitri gives an odd look to Sylvain, trying to understand. He understands the insinuation; that Dedue used the Crest Stone on himself, but… no. Dedue had already proposed such a plan and Dimitri said no. Though he longs for the day Edelgard is killed, he doesn't want to lose any of his people in the process. Dedue would have never disobeyed orders. It's not possible. It had to have been Edelgard. She must have…

His numb cheeks finally offer some feeling, and he notices the tears trailing down his face. Dimitri shakes his hair so that it hides them. They cannot see. He wears enough of his emotions on his sleeve nowadays.

"Why did you do it, Dedue?" Dimitri whispers out loud, but receives no answer. It infuriates him to no end, to be cursed by these spectres and to not receive answers when he needs them. It would drive anyone else mad, but he can handle the burden.

"Gilbert, Annette, Mercedes, Ashe," Dimitri says slowly, closing his eyes. "You will come with me to Fhirdiad."

An uncomfortable silence follows.

"Sylvain and Ingrid," Dimitri says. "You… you have betrayed not just me, but Dedue and Felix too. I wish their voices would haunt you like they haunt me even now. But you have convinced yourselves that you are guiltless. You will not come with us. I am relocating you to Arianrod."

Felix chortles again, Dedue is silent.

"Arianrod?!" Sylvain almost spits. "That place is a graveyard. Not even Edelgard is crazy enough to try taking — "

"Then what?!" Dimitri actually spits back. "Do you want to go back to House Gautier, Sylvain, and watch your territory be taken over by that — that — that _scum_ — all from the safety of your throne? And Ingrid, do you want to give up your knighthood just so you can find a husband?!"

Ingrid glowers at him. "...I don't even know who you are anymore."

"Good," is all Dimitri can say, though he pauses as he hears Felix say, "_Good,"_ in unison with him.

"It's your choice," Dimtri explains. "But if you care about your duty, you will go to Arianrod and take over the operation, graveyard though it may be. Oh… and your relics."

Both Sylvain and Ingrid look stricken. Sylvain shakes his head again. "No! Dimitri, are you — do you _remember_ what happened to my brother when he tried to wield this stupid thing — "

"Mercedes has a Crest," Dimitri shrugs.

Mercedes stifles again. "I am _not_ using their relics — I think I have made it quite clear that I don't want to hurt anyone."

"If Arianrod is at low risk of invasion," Dimitri continues as if he heard nothing. "Then I want those relics on our frontlines. They have the Sword of Creator, as well as Blutgang, Freikrugel, and Thysrus."

Though that is assumption — he saw Marianne, Hilda, and Lorenz fielded during the battle and though he isn't sure if they are officially with the Empire now, he is positive that they will likely be killed for their relics, if not recruited for them. How unfortunate that these blessed weapons are turning on their country.

Sylvain furrows his brow, though he maintains his composure well, Dimitri can sense the violence within him, how any moment the wrong word could trigger an assault. It has been like this ever since Edelgard tried to take Garreg Mach five years ago; he is grateful that Sylvain is finally showing his true colors.

Ingrid cuts in. "And what will you tell Lady Rhea when she asks about us? Do you recall how she made it clear to Sylvain that he not allow anyone else but — "

"Do you really think Rhea thinks of you two at all?" Dimitri frowns, and though his words hurt even his own soul, he somehow relishes in them. "All she does, nowadays, is think of her mother."

Dimitri notices a flicker of annoyance cross Gilbert's otherwise plain face; it is probably some form of heresy to say such a scornful thing about Rhea, but who cares really. He is King and Rhea is in his domain.

"Yeah, and all you do is think of Edelgard," Sylvain spits back. "Felix is _dead_, Your Highness. Dedue too. You want to separate us even more?"

"_He's got a point," _Felix coos.

"_Your Highness, it is imperative that we stay together,"_ Dedue echoes.

Dimitri considers them, but ultimately shrugs it away. He has no sympathy for traitors like these.

Sylvain groans and thrusts the Lance of Ruin directly into Dimitri's hands before storming off. Ingrid hangs back, hands nervously clutched to Luin but eventually she bows and gently passes it over to Mercedes, whose face is riddled with worry. "Dimitri," Ingrid says. "I pray that you find the peace that you — "

"Go away," Dimitri snaps.

"_Ah, I'm going to miss that wit,"_ Felix purrs.

Ingrid's face falls. "Very well, _Your Majesty._"

"_Such an attitude is unacceptable, even in the current circumstances," _Dedue says, letting loose a hint of agitation.

"_Oh yes, you should punish her," _Felix says.

With a mocking bow, Ingrid turns on her heel and follows after her friend, but before Dimitri can resume command, something else disturbing happens.

"I have to go to Arianrod too, then," Mercedes announces softly, briskly passing by Dimitri and dropping Luin into his hands. Before anyone can fathom a response, she looks Dimtri in the eyes and for once, her warm face offers nothing but cold. "The Empire only yielded because I was able to find my brother and ask him to make the order."

Speechless. Dimitri is speechless. How could — after everything that's happened, how could this team reason with someone as ghastly as the Death Knight?! Hardly even human, he's…

"Mercie?" Annette reaches forward to take her best friend's hand, but Dimitri waves his thick arm between them. "Dimitri, you can't — "

"Annette," Gilbert murmurs, shifting to grab his daughter by the shoulders.

"Do you honestly think I couldn't tell?" a crooked grin cuts through Dimitri's cheek. "Tell me. Why lie to me? Why take the blame, Sylvain?"

Sylvain looks back with such scorn, but Mercedes is the one to speak. "Dimitri, you aren't well. We wanted someone to stay behind to help you but… I can't watch you turn into this. I've already seen it happen to my brother."

"Ah, so that's how it is," Dimitri nods. "You think I've lost my mind. Annette, Ashe, do you think that what Mercedes says is true?"

Annette frowns, gazing down at her long, bloodied gloves, still under her father's hold. Ashe looks off to the ocean, scratching behind the neck. Neither response is particularly encouraging, but good enough to ignore for now.

"Even if you find the people who killed your father, Dimitri," Sylvain says when Dimitri is not looking at him. Dimitri turns to face the boy, but his lips don't move when he continues, "_You'll never find peace. You'll never be King."_

"What?" Dimitri says mostly to himself.

Ingrid turns and like Sylvain, she doesn't speak but Dimitri hears her voice so plainly. "_You are a disgrace to the knighthood. You couldn't even kill Edelgard on your own. How will you fare against her with your dying army?"_

Mercedes turns her head, now standing alongside her exiled friends, and raises an eyebrow at Dimitri. She says something, but no words come out, just this dull throbbing that makes his head ache. Sylvain steps forward to say something himself, but like Mercedes, Dimitri cannot hear a sound.

"_Hmph, at least there will be more voices up here to enjoy," _Felix mocks.

"_Don't listen to him, Your Highness," _Dedue rushes out. "_You just need some rest, it will be alright."_

Dimitri nods. Perhaps Dedue is right, just some rest… but how can he sleep when that woman is mere miles away still waiting for her execution?

He looks to what is left of his personal forces. "Annette, speak to the remaining soldiers. See if they can find my lance, I do not wish to return to Fhirdiad without it."

Begrudgingly, Annete nods and breaks from her father's grasp, offering one fleeting glance to her disembarking friends, before moving in the opposite direction towards the other soldiers.

"Gilbert, write to Lady Rhea. We will need to borrow some of the Knights of Seiros now that our numbers have dwindled so much."

Gilbert nods.

"And Ashe," Dimitri looks to the small boy, and frowns at the bruise purpling so much of his eye. "Show me Dedue's body."

* * *

The damp, crimson robes weigh heavily on Edelgard's shoulders, but still she hoists herself up with pride as Byleth leads her through a musty cave. It is far off from the coast, highly secluded, fronted by a horseshoe-shaped rock that has ensnared its own little pocket of ocean. The wyvern, which Edelgard now recognizes as belonging to Seteth, leaves the two of them, presumably to lead the Strike Force back here.

"Do you know this place, Professor?" Edelgard asks with her neck craned towards the cavern ceiling. Droplets of water fall from the stalactites and pop against her eyes.

A spark and then a soft _fwoosh!_ as fire somehow springs to life in the murky dwellings. For a moment, Edelgard is startled. The sound of fire igniting brings her back to… things she would rather not think of. But when she looks to her teacher, she notices how Byleth clearly just finished snapping her fingers, and how her eyes so proudly glow in the face of the fire she created.

Always finding new ways to impress her student.

Byleth straightens her stance and looks to the cave's ceiling. "According to Father, a gang of pirates who didn't like him very much made him walk the plank. Allegedly, he swam all the way over here for refuge."

Edelgard stares at Byleth patiently. Half the time, she has no idea how Byleth actually feels about the things she says, so today Edelgard asks. "What do you think?"

Byleth's face scrunches up in concentration. "Hm… I think my father told too many stories while drinking. Now, I'd ask you to take off your clothes, but I have a feeling you wouldn't comply."

Edelgard's cheeks glow and she nods, leaning back into the stone. "You would be correct, Professor."

"Hmph," Byleth snorts. "It's just — it would do poorly for Adrestia to have their Emperor die of hypothermia."

Edelgards nods. Her robes cling to her skin, seemingly frozen in place. For a moment, she wonders if Dimitri faired better down in the deep, but quickly, she turns her eyes back onto Byleth. Her teacher.

Though Edelgard won't say it out loud, exposing her body to the Professor would be… embarrassing for her. And to even just expose her body to herself would be traumatic, given the scars that run up and down her body, both from the war and her time underground.

Even being in this cave makes her feel ill at ease, though she knows Byleth intended for this place to have a positive effect on her.

"You are quite stubborn," Byleth says mostly to herself. "I now see why Hubert disregards your orders so often." But at least her statement ends in a slight smile.

Edelgard smiles back to at least set the tone of this moment. "Are our Eagles headed back here?"

Byleth nods. "Hubert and Ferdinand, at least. Tell me, how did the Seteth thing work out?"

Edelgard shrugs. "You know how protective he is of Flayn. He merely deduced the truth, that Dimtri had conspired to use Flayn as a chess piece in this little game of killing me."

Byleth finally slides into a sitting position before Her Majesty. "I see. Do you think he'll stay?"

"I am unsure," Edelgard looks off to the side. "I was surprised to see the Golden Deer join our ranks, as well. Lots of variables, I'm sure you don't like it very much."

Byleth feigns a deep frown before laughing. So odd it is to hear them laugh… but it is pleasing. "No, I like to know what I'm working with."

Edelgard nods along, breaking eye contact, eyes trailing along with the rising smoke. She hugs her legs closer to her chest, and sniffles. It doesn't feel like she's supposed to be alive.

After some time, Edelgard looks back to Byleth. "I'm not sure what to do with my Uncle. He betrayed us…"

Byleth nods, knowing not to say anything.

"...but we still need his help," Edelgard shakes her head. "I'm positive I understand his motive. He wanted to pit both sides against each other to see who to truly side with. If I'm right, we've kept his alliance and needn't speak more of it. But I don't like relying on someone who is so…"

"Evil?" Byleth suggests plainly.

Edelgard furrows her brow. "...I was going to say duplicitous, but if you must be so blunt, yes. Evil."

Byleth looks away, drawing her knees to her chest, mirroring Edelgard's pose. "I killed Dedue."

Edelgard frowns; she didn't know that. "Was it…"

"Very unpleasant, yes," Byleth says with some strain behind the usual monotone. "You killed Felix, am I correct?"

"Yes," Edelgard says.

"Do you… do you think they're bad people?" Byleth's eyes widen, almost like a child's. "Do you think they deserved it?"

Edelgard closes her eyes. She is Emperor. She is supposed to have definitive answers, but today she really isn't sure. She would like to say that those who block her path to justice must be obliterated, but that seems dishonest. From her understanding, many soldiers, be it in Faerghus or Adrestia, care little for the politics and ideology of Emperor Edelgard, and merely aligned themselves with their respective countries out of loyalty. In that sense, both armies are the same. It doesn't make sense for either party to lose soldiers.

"I knew you would be conflicted," Byleth mutters. Alarm crosses her plain expression and she swipes at the air frantically. "Not that it's a bad thing! You… you feel the loss like we all do. It's good."

Edelgard frowns; she isn't sure what to say to that.

"For a time, I was worried about you," Byleth says from so far away. "I was scared that you might become cold like Dimitri has, or even Rhea. So many old friends have surprised us in more ways than one…"

"I'd hardly call Dimitri and Rhea _friends_," Edelgard snips.

Byleth blinks. "Well… Rhea was… I think she was trying to be a mother figure to me. Um, not that I allowed for that kind of closeness."

For a moment, Edelgard feels some flare of jealousy burn through her nose, but she steadies herself. It is fair for Byleth to have wanted that closeness, especially considering their absurd upbringing.

It's at that moment that Hubert stumbles into the cavern, body blotted out by the burning sun. While he is somewhat visible, most of his form blurs together in the violently bright light. He rests a gloved hand along the wall and looks to the two of them. "Glad you both are well. If you are prepared, Your Majesty, I would like to give you my report of the battle, and discuss next steps."

Edelgard narrows her eyes; why isn't Hubert stepping closer? It's odd for him to be so distant, and in the light, for that matter. "Hubert, are you…"

"Of course I am, Your Majesty," Hubert says slowly, but with some force. "Perhaps a few scrapes and bruises but otherwise — "

_Pop!_

" — oh dammit."

Ferdinand materializes into the air, likely warped over to the island by Linhardt, and rushes at Hubert, pinching him by the ear and dragging him closer to the fire. Edelgard is mesmerized by how astray Ferdinand's normally elegantly groomed mane is, and how his right cheek is speared by a ghastly bruise. But regrettably, Hubert is far worse.

Now that Hubert is closer, the dark crimson bleeding through the black is far more visible. Hubert stumbles over coughing, displaying what appears to be a puncture wound. His gloves are torn all over, hands shaking and bleeding, hardly stable enough to cast any serious spells.

"Hubert saved my life," Ferdinand frowns. "Sylvain got the jump on me and if it weren't for Hubert, I…"

"Wh-what is going on?" Edelgard stutters, getting to her feet. The closer she gets to Hubert, the far worse he appears.

"We were supposed to fly down together, but Hubert seized Seteth's wyvern the moment it returned," Ferdinand explains.

"Let go of me," Hubert snaps, boots digging into the stone. "I need to give Her Majesty my report."

"No, you don't!" Ferdinand screams. "Hubert, you're — you're dying."

Hubert falls from Ferdinand's grasp and lands on one knee, cringing as he tries to lift it. His face is paler than usual, teeth chattering, and Edelgard can't help but notice the infernal smell of sulfur expelling from his mouth, as if he were inflicted by some kind of dark magic… but none of the Blue Lions from her knowledge know dark magic…

...unless…

Edelgard steadies Hubert's shoulders and looks to Ferdinand seriously. "Get him to Linhardt immediately, I think — I think — you said it was Sylvain? Did — did he have the Lance of Ruin?"

Hubert nods, coughing blood into his glove. "Please, Your Majesty. It's too late for me, let me do this for you — "

"_No_," Edelgard growls, putting on that icy Emperor tone.

Hubert tries to say something, but gasps from more pain and leans into Edelgard's touch. She lets her fingers curl into his raven hair, one hand massaging the nape to his neck. "Ferdinand, have Linhardt warp Dorothea and Flayn here, then fly Lin over immediately."

Ferdinand nods at her seriously and moves to the front entrance.

"Ferdinand," Edelgard calls out. "I think — the Lance of Ruin might have affected his magic," she looks down at his twitching hands. "I think they trapped a spell inside him."

Ferdinand pales, then hits the ground running. Edelgard turns back to Hubert and presses him to her chest. "Does that sound right?" she asks.

"Yes," he whimpers. "It was — that Hades spell I've been practicing. I suppose this is my fault for being so ambitious."

"You did well," Edelgard assures him. "Professor, do you — "

"Yes," Byleth interrupts, dropping down to Hubert's side, and splaying her hands over his back. They glow green, and Hubert groans as her healing magic helps him. "Sorry. I was panicking."

Edelgard raises an eyebrow, raising her chin to look Byleth in the eye, but her teacher is already burrowed herself into helping Hubert. How odd for her to be panicked. She will have to question Byleth about this later. Now is not the appropriate time.

"Lysithea's in the Sealed Forest, but not near Thales," Hubert grunts. "Dimitri is alive, but his relic is lost and — "

"Sh," Edelgard presses a finger to his lips. "Hubert, you'll tell me soon. It is alright. Please. Rest."

His yellow eyes stare at her blankly, and finally close. Minutes later, Edelgard has him laid out across her lap, fingers still running through his hair. Only when he is truly asleep does she remember how cold she is.

"I think this is a sign that we all need to learn Faith magic," Byleth says with that usual distant tone. "Ideally, more than just healing. Ward spells and Silence spells too. Personally, I'm disappointed in myself for not having learned Rescue yet."

Edelgard nods but doesn't say anything. Back at the Academy, she tried to learn faith magic, but it just — she just didn't have the passion for it, and now she is regretting that. She is glad Ferdinand came when he did because she isn't so sure what would have happened to Hubert otherwise.

"Professor," Edelgard lifts her head. "I need to tell you something."

Byleth, who stands near the entrance with crossed arms, looks back. "Yes?"

"It's important, come here."

Obediently, Byleth drops her arms and walks over to Edelgard, this time seating herself besides the Emperor. Edelgard supposes she should start speaking, but it is nice to have the girl so close to her. She takes a second to appreciate the company, and that second becomes a half-minute when Byleth decides to take the bold action of stroking Edelgard's cheek.

"I don't want to be Emperor," Edelgard says after the motion passes. "After we win, I will step down."

Byleth blinks. "Who — who will lead?"

Edelgard shrugs. "Whoever the people want. This is very radical so I haven't brought it up — but now more than ever, I think we must talk about this. I want the people of Fodlan to choose their leader. We'll have to… arrange for some kind of campaign that allows people to make their input. It will be complicated but…"

Byleth nods along. "Will you run for Emperor then?"

Ah, already several steps ahead.

"I'd rather serve on a cabinet," Edelgard smiles at the question. "Something to do with holding the nobility accountable, but I am sure the people will want me in charge, or at least some of them. In that case, yes, I will do it."

Byleth playfully nudges Edelgard. "Ferdinand will give you a run for your money."

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. "_Him_? Ha, I'll annihilate him." She looks back to Hubert, finger now curled around his jaw to keep herself in check with his pulse. "But the point is to end this system of divine monarchy being passed down. Felix died for his King, Byleth, as did Dedue. Hubert nearly did the same for me. It is… unacceptable, in my new world. I don't want that kind of clout."

Byleth frowns.

Assuming Byleth doesn't follow, Edelgard explains further. "This war is not supposed to be about me, or any one person. We're all supposed to be in it together, as they say. No one should sacrifice everything just because I'm Emperor. I think if voted in, it'd be easier to make the separation."

Byleth nods and looks away into the distance, face scrunched up in thought.

Edelgard tilts her head closer. "Professor?"

"Um, I was just thinking," Byleth frowns. "I've also sacrificed myself for you."

Edelgard frowns; she doesn't like thinking about those five years without her teacher. Sometimes she pretends they didn't happen, and that it was mere moons ago that they were all classmates. It's easier that way.

"I'm sorry," Edelgard bows her head. "I have asked too much of you then, haven't I?"

Byleth shakes her head and offers a rare smile. "No, Your Majesty, I didn't do it because you were Emperor.

I did it because… because I care about you."


	8. Familiar Chatter

Lysithea wishes that her captivity did not affect her so much; she is sure that her friends expected to find her pale and shaking from some kind of illness, and it is exactly how they found her. She was locked away in some obscure shack in the Sealed Forest with hardly enough rations left behind. While occasionally, Felix broke rank to bring her sweets, it wasn't easy for him to do so.

But she stuffs her face full at the dining hall, which the Empire graciously allows the Golden Deer to occupy. Chalices slink and when the food runs out, a drunk Raphael ventures into the kitchen to make something happen.

Eventually, the group conversation splits off into the usual cliques, aside from Marianne who maintains her usual distance, though today a dreamy gaze is splattered across her pale face. "Are you alright, Marianne?" Lysithea asks after absorbing a whole slice of chocolate cake.

"Huh?" Marianne turns to face Lysithea, and her cheeks light up. "Oh, sorry. I was just thinking of the Rhodos Coast…"

"Ooh," Lysithea skims a spoonful of frosting into her mouth. "No one's really mentioned it. What happened? You guys helped the Empire?"

"Y-yes," Marianne stutters, "Th-though, I mostly just helped Edelgard."

Marianne pronounces Edelgard's name so carefully, and it is odd for her. Usually, she would try to just call Edelgard the Emperor, so there are less worries to bog her down. But she calls her Edelgard.

"How did you help her?" Lysithea goads Marianne on.

"Um," Marianne bites her lip. "When King Dimitri cornered her, I used my Blizzard spell to make an escape route across the ocean."

"Whoa! That's like — so cool!" Lysithea exclaims. "I'd never have thought of using Black Magic like that, maybe I should learn some finally…"

Marianne blushes. "Oh, no no, I could never, you're so much better at magic than me and…"

"Yeah, but I'd never even think of making an ice bridge," Lysithea grins. "I'd have — like — just tried to blow Dimitri up and stuff." Her face scrunches up fast, trying to think of the best way to hit a giant thing like Dimitri. Maybe a Luna spell would be good? Eh, Dimitri probably never really worked on his magic resistance, some normal Miasma would be fine…

"Ahem," a wry cough interrupts the moment, and heads turn to see Hubert, Edelgard's retainer, standing over their table. He looks a bit more ghastly than normal, but she can tell that it's from the injuries he sustained during the battle at the Coast. Like her, he tries to hide the limp and burns away so that people won't worry about him… or in his case still be frightened of him. "Apologies for interrupting your party, I shall only be a moment."

Hubert always mystified Lysithea. He was one of the only other mages at Garreg Mach who tampered with the Dark Arts, and wasn't afraid of flaunting it. On the battlefield, she expected him to stick by Edelgard's side and focus on defensive magic, but the man was — quite cutthroat. He probably could have done with expanding his repertoire of spells but still he was —

"Lysithea, it is small," Hubert bows back, gloved fingers pinching the handle to an elegant teacup. "But this is a personal gift from the Emperor."

"Oh, thank you," Lysithea raises an eyebrow and accepts the cup, taking in a whiff. "Oh! The Sweet Apple Blend, she remembered!" She nearly kicks the table in her excitement. "Thank you so much, um, do you have sugar?"

Hubert grins slyly. "It's been added. Lots of it, I can assure you."

Ooh, now this is getting embarrassing. It's already kind of a lot to accept that Emperor Edelgard went so out of her way to save her, but to remember her favorite tea and how she likes it? Ooh, she's just so pampered. She bets Hilda's jealous over all of the coddling.

"Um," Lysithea blurts out with no sense of etiquette. "C-can I talk to Edelga—um, the Emperor, I mean? Or could she join us for a bit?"

Hubert's face falls. "I'm afraid the Emperor is busy this evening. Perhaps tomorrow, I can arrange an audience. Now, I must be going."

Hubert bows back, lifting his cape high into the air like a true thespian. It's very eye roll worthy. Hubert's biggest problem is he has absolutely no humility as to what a badass he is. Makes him an easier target when the chips are down.

Suddenly, Lorenz pats Lysithea on the shoulder. "Lysithea, a word?"

* * *

Of all the Golden Deer, Lysithea probably knows Lorenz the least. Though she is a noble, Lorenz always found her bad table manners appalling, so he — and probably rightfully so — kept himself at a safe distance. So it's odd sitting across him in the courtyard, even weirder when she thinks about how the two of them never did this before the war, and now they are at Garreg Mach as if it were old times.

"I was thinking, Lysithea," Lorenz frowns. "I know you and your family have disagreed with mine about Edelgard…"

Lysithea frowns. "I don't disagree with you about Edelgard. Maybe the Empire, but…"

Lorenz flashes a crafty smile, as if he wanted her to point that out. "I've come to recognize the difference myself, but… hm, maybe no one told you, but Edelgard nearly drowned yesterday."

Lysithea perks up in interest. "Oh?"

Immediately, her mind goes to Marianne. Did her ice spell not work or something? Is she going to be in trouble? Because if Hubert threatens her, Lysithea will make Hubert think about about treating her friends so disrespectfully.

"My understanding is that Edelgard risked her life trying to bait King Dimitri deeper into the ocean," Lorenz shrugs. "A noble strategy I'm sure, but she was… quite dedicated towards saving you. It is against good etiquette for me to share this, but when we told her that you had vanished, Edelgard had…" He purses his lips together, trying to pluck free the most appropriate words. "...an emotional breakdown, I'm not sure what else to call it. It was very vivid."

"Oh," Lysithea frowns. "Shoot, I feel kinda guilty now…."

Lorenz raises an eyebrow. "For getting kidnapped? None of us are upset at you, if anything, you saved us at Deirdriu before Claude… erm…"

Oh wow. In the midst of everything, Lysithea sort of forgot that Claude died. Or… well… got killed. By Edelgard. After he begged for mercy. She's been more focused on the whole being kidnapped thing.

"I don't know what will happen with him gone," Lorenz says out loud. "The moment the Empire released us, I wanted to strike out for home right away to make sure a civil war doesn't break out, but my heart was…" His violet eyes fall on her. "...with you."

Lysithea blushes. Before, she would think that the rascal was flirting with her but she knows better now; Lorenz really just wants people to know how much he appreciates them. "Do… do you want me to convince my family to back the Empire?"

Lorenz nods. "I think you should consider it. It's against Claude's wishes… he wanted everything to stay neutral but… well, this makes me sound like another one of those ignoramuses like Acheron, but we at Gloucester only sided with the Empire because of our history. I never really thought of Edelgard… until now."

"Yeah," Lysithea sighs. "I've been avoiding it too. This is all really complicated. She killed our best friend and yet… it feels so wrong to talk about her like this. She's trying, right?"

Lorenz smiles with some relief. "I am so glad you understand. I think this — this kind of complex thinking is what Claude wanted — no, _expected_ — us of."

Lysithea grins and the two exchange a quiet moment, craning their necks up to look at the sky. She is sure that convincing her parents to officially side with the Empire, thus switching over the entire Alliance, will be easy now that there has been an official operation launched solely to rescue her, but… there is something she needs to do first.

"Hey, I'm gonna go talk to Edelgard, wanna come?" Lysithea asks, kicking her feet back and forth.

Lorenz's eyes shoot so wide open, and she can tell he is about to pull out the chalkboard so he can lecture her again on how these things work. "Lysithea, you can't just _do_ that, Hubert told us that she's busy and therefore — "

"Yeah," Lysithea shrugs. "But I bet she's busy with something really stupid."

* * *

Turns out Lorenz didn't want to come. _Oh my! Lysithea, this calls for a serious breach of etiquette, you must listen to reason and rawr rawr rawr, look at me! I'm Lorenz! I know so much about pointless things like etiquette! Ooh, don't forget to raise your pinky finger when you have a cup of tea, hm hm?_

Probably for the best. Though it is nerve-wracking to handle this conversation alone; she really hoped for having a friend at her side. Her friendship with Edelgard is… tenuous, at best. How should she lead in? Lorenz advised her to at least thank Edelgard for the tea, if she is only willing to say one noble thing.

Walking through the halls to the second floor of Garreg Mach is oddly nostalgistic, she is surprised at how much of the halls have been maintained to be the same as they were before. It becomes even more of the same when she hears Seteth lecturing Edelgard on things that she promised Lorenz would be absolutely stupid.

"Heavens! Edelgard, there is a reason I left my quills right here! It is the most efficient way to do work, you must fix this at once."

"Seteth, with all due respect, I've been winning this war for about five years now, I think that — "

"Ha, if I were in your position, I promise I'd be far more efficient a leader, and you know what they'd say about me? Oh, that Seteth, he is so quick when it comes to signing and writing things. Perhaps it's because he doesn't need to reach halfway across his desk to — "

"Oh, I've never reached out here before," Edelgard mutters. "Thank you," she says absently while doing what sounds like opening a drawer. "Are these — illustrations?"

"Ah!" Seteth cries out with inspiration. "Yes, Hilda's, I was wondering where those were…"

So enraptured in flaying each other, Lysithea knocks on the door frame to get their attention. "Um, Edelgard. A word?" she asks patiently. It is very strange seeing Edelgard, the academy's agnostic rebel, seated at the desk of the academy's authoritian.

Edelgard frowns, gazing up at Seteth. "Lysithea, now isn't the best time. Seteth and I are having an important discussion about… erm…"

"Doodles?" Lysithea suggests with a shrug. "The best place to set your quills?"

Seteth nods. "Yes. Those are the things rulers like Edelgard need to think about."

Both Edelgard and Lysithea roll their eyes.

Seteth coughs into his hand, slipping free fast. "I'll see myself out."

A momentary silence unfolds between the women until Edelgard slides over a candy dish.

Without second thoughts, Lysithea immediately snatches a candy and plops it onto her tongue. Suckling on it, she tries to remember the advice Lorenz gave her, and promptly thanks Edelgard for the tea.

"Oh, it was no problem," Edelgard smiles softly.

Another pause. Why is Edelgard being so quiet? It shouldn't be surprising, it has always been like this with Edelgard, Lysithea just figured that maybe the war would have made her more bold.

"I know why you risked so much to save me, Edelgard," Lysithea says in a small voice without eye contact.

A crinkle knits itself in between Edelgard's eyebrows. "Well, it was the right thing to do. That's all."

Lysithea shakes her head and perks up her chin. "When you found out I was kidnapped, did you suspect… um… Those Who Slither in the Dark?"

Edelgard frowns and looks away. "Please shut the door."

Lysithea does so; it feels odd, no professor at Garreg Mach ever shut their door. Though Edelgard isn't exactly a Professor.

"How do you know that name?" Edelgard asks.

Lysithea hesitates. "I — I did some spywork for the Alliance, and because we have _mutual interests_, I decided to find out what Hubert was researching."

Lysithea didn't very much like being a spy, though the knowledge she snatched was invaluable to both her and the Alliance. Mostly her though. She knows more than is safe to know now.

"Mutual interests?" Edelgard raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Ugh, this again. It's this kind of attitude that really makes Lysithea angry. "I don't understand," she seethes. "Edelgard, you know what they did to me, I know you do. And there's only one way you would."

Edelgard's face cools. "Are you accusing me of something, Lysithea? I don't lie to people. I did it for too long and — "

"I have two Crests," Lysithea blurts out. Why does it always have to be through anger that she admits it? "And it's killing me! And it's killing you too, I can tell!"

"I don't — "

"You haven't grown an inch since I last saw you, Edelgard," Lysithea runs her blouse's sleeve across her face. "And I know you — you're too careful for a war like this. But you did it anyways. Because you don't have much time left either, do you?"

Edelgard doesn't even flinch. Dammit. She has an amazing poker face. Especially for someone who apparently doesn't lie.

"I…" Edelgard says in the same cadence as before, but this time she stops herself and thinks it over.

But Lysithea has already waited five years, this cannot go on for any longer. "The only reason you saved me was to save yourself from the guilt, wasn't it?" Lysithea spits.

Edelgard nods very gently. "I thought they would give you a third Crest," she says in a small voice.

Lysithea almost wants to get up and leave, and take some medicine or something. Her head hurts. "So you admit to having two Crests?"

Edelgard nods again; her movements are small enough that it hardly even looks like she's in control. "I have two, yes. Byleth knows, and Hubert has known since we were children."

Lysithea's face falls. "You… you were a kid too, when it happened?"

Edelgard claps her eyes shut, pressing down hard on the tears. "I don't wish to speak about this with you. I am sorry."

Lysithea leans back. What else is there to even talk about? This is the whole reason why she talks to Edelgard, why she longs to be near her and help her. "Why do you work with the people that did this to you?" Again, her voice is small like a child's. It's embarrassing.

"They groomed me to do this," Edelgard says without eye contact. "It's the only reason I'm alive and my nine other siblings aren't. Make no mistake, Lysithea. I am not their pawn. I do this because I want to and when I can… I will deal with them."

Those are such strong words. It almost makes Lysithea jealous. That's the sort of creed she wants to live by. "I want to join the Black Eagles," she says without thinking.

Edelgard looks at her with wide, fearful eyes. "Lysithea, this isn't school, we're at — "

"I'm not letting you say no to me again," Lysithea gets up and faces Edelgard head-on. "I asked you when we were in school and you said no then because of — "

" — your health," Edelgard finishes. "I never expected anyone from Garreg Mach to walk this path of me, and I — I didn't want them to." Her hands slide across her desk, fingers scrunching up against the stacks of paperwork. "But you, I knew you of all people… you would join me. Because of what that scum did to you. And I wanted you to stay away because of that…"

Edelgard's eyes shine in such an emotional display that Lysithea almost feels bad for riling the girl up so much.

"So let me help you now. I'm not the only one," Lysithea says. "Marianne seems to really admire you."

Edelgard's eyes widen for a moment before falling back into their usual grief. "No. The Eagles that we have… it's already too much. You all deserve beautiful lives, you shouldn't — "

"I don't want to keep waiting!" Lysithea shouts, accidentally knocking over the candy dish. "I — I want to help. Claude meant well, but those years I spent on the spy ring? It never went anywhere. I hate it, looking back. And I don't have time to waste, you know I don't."

Edelgard nods again, and after some hesitation, raises her clenched fist over to Lysithea and opens her hand. Tentatively, Lysithea reaches out, fingers brushing Edelgard's palm. But then she withdraws and pushes back her chair, scrambling around Edelgard's desk, and wrapping her arms tightly around the girl's shoulders.

They hold each other for a long time.

It's bizarre really.

Lysithea used to be the shorter one, and now Edelgard's head is on her shoulders.


	9. Swift Strikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert & The Gang go on a road trip. Hilarity ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling really happy lately. Within the past 3 days, I have won a legal battle, landed a dream job in a different state, and bought plane tickets for me and my cats. It's weird walking around and having a neutral smile, since this year has been so hard on me. I'm happy to be alive, hopeful for the future, and thankful for your readership.

"Annette, you understand why His Majesty had to turn exhile Sylvain, Ingrid, and Mercedes, don't you?"

Annette will never be able to explain this, but she knows that her father's voice is something that could traditionally be described as _warm_, but when he speaks he sounds like anything but.

Annette says nothing, listening instead to the _click clack click clack _of the wheels rolling over stone in the dead of the night. After the Rhodos Coast, Dimitri pushes ahead of his men, likely to serve out some horrible vengeance away from the sight of his subjects. After recovering Dimitri's Relic Areadbhar, from the bottom of the sea — an expedition that inadvertently lead to the uncovering ofEmperor Edelgard's Relic, Aymr — Gilbert decides it would be best for the Blue Lions to move under the cover of darkness.

"Annette, I know your pain, but you must listen to reason," her father urges.

Annette ignores Gilbert for a second time. She's been trying so hard to love her father, but how can she when he so readily bends a knee towards a mad man? The Dimitri she knew long ago would not tolerate such brutish behavior. She wishes not to think of such things about her friends, but for too long has she suffered at his hands. Dimitri takes such pleasure in isolating his men, and Annette is positive that may cost them the war.

"Annette, look at me when I talk to you — "

_Crash!_

Arrows shoot through the wooden sides of the carriage, sending splintering wood everywhere. Annette rushes to her feet, hand fishing for her own Relic, Crusher, but trips as one of the carriage wheels is knocked free. The horses she cannot see bleat and neigh in a panic, and then the carriage crumples inward as hooves gallop away. The carriage ceiling caves in and traps her underneath a sheet of rubble.

It hurts so much.

"_Oh dear, that was a bit more brutal than we discussed…_"

"_Quiet, Ferdinand. We still have work to do."_

"_I just don't like sleuthing around in the dark like this. There are far better uses for a soldier as high caliber as myself. Oh, is that _— "

"_Down! Hands in the air!_" the female general barks. Annette recognizes that voice; it belongs to General Ladislava. She's been a persistent thorn in the side of the Kingdom for five years now. She was there when they all lost Garreg Mach, and she's been there present ever since Dimitri did the unforgivable to General Randolph.. "_I said — _"

"_They're up, they're up!_" a nasally voice squeaks. It's Ashe. He probably fell off his horse when they were apparently cut loose. At least he's still alive. He's her only friend left after all.

Ragged edges of wood stabbing into her thin arms, Annette reaches under the wood to find her ax again. But Gilbert presses his hand over hers; though she can't see her father, she recognizes his gentle touch.

"_Hush, Annette,_" Gilbert whispers.

"_Calm down, Ashe_," Ferdinand calls out. "_We won't kill you if you just cooperate._"

"_Cooperate_?" Ashe spits out. It makes Annette smile. "_You just killed two of our best friends!_"

Ferdinand apparently hesitates, given the lapse in conversation. "_I know, and I would hate for someone to report to Fhirdiad that we've taken out you and whoever is in that carriage. If they're alive, and Goddess, I hope that _— "

"_Goddess_?" Ashe snaps again. "_How can you even use Her name_?" His voice quakes, he must be crying now. Annette feels her fingers tremble; she cannot wait this out any longer.

"_I'm sorry, Ferdinand, but we don't have time for this,_" Ladislava urges. So quiet the night is that Annette can hear the woman's boots patter across the dirt road. The tip of the woman's ax drags through the dirt.

Retracting her shoulders, Annette slips free from her father's grip, and squeezes under the sheet of wood, and finds the handle to Crusher, and with one fantastical swing, her burning ax blasts through the rubble and cleaves through the air.

It's dark, too dark to see, at least for her and her father whose eyes have not yet adjusted to the night, so Annette is thankful the glow of her Relic lets her see herself nearly take Ladislava's head right off. But she misses, and the flames dance in a beautiful arc through the air. She hates using Crusher, she misses when conflicts were calm enough for her to feel at ease not using the heavy thing.

Ladislava bows back, then lunges forward. Regrettably, Annette still isn't used to the heft of her Relic, and Ladislava's ax slips past hers and —

— strikes Gilbert in the palms. Her father lunges out from behind to grab the thing before it can slice his daughter in the hip, and growling like a wolf, he tosses the chunk of metal away, and charges at Ladislava.

But after two steps, an arrow comes in through the dark and strikes her father in the shoulder. Howling in agony, Gilbert flops onto his back, the entire left hemisphere of his jaw smeared in ugly black blood.

Blinking back tears, Annette looks up to an overlook that's shrouded by forest — likely housing the cowardly archer that did this — and punches at the sky towards it. A vicious wind spell erupts from her knuckle and slams into the hill like a hurricane, roots unearthing themselves, a tree falling back as dirt explodes into a storm.. Then Annette turns back to General Ladislava and her knight. She tries to ignore Ferdinand; she doesn't want to hurt a fellow student. She's not like _them._

Ladislava backs away, towards her wyvern. Ferdinand readies his lance.

It's both difficult and risky to duel wield the Relic and her repertoire of spells, but Annette has no choice. She sends a surge of wind underneath the wings of the wyvern, knocking its reigns out of Ladislava's reach, and charges at the woman.

It ends fast; Crusher smashes Ladislava in the head and knocks her onto the ground, already motionless. Normally, there'd be a loud crunch as the skull caves in, but the flares that spin off Crusher mask anyone from hearing such a ghastly thing. Not sure if that was truly a killing stroke, Annette raises her ax for a second swing, but then notices Ferdinand's charge and leans into a defensive stance.

"Stop!" Ashe cries out, stepping into the glow of Crusher so that Ferdinand can see an arrow pointed right at his neck.

Ferdinand freezes.

"Just—just take Edelgard's stupid Relic," Ashe yells. "That's what you want, right?!"

"Y-y-yes," Ferdinand stutters, lips quivering at the sight of his fallen general.

"Ashe," Annette mutters. This feels wrong, while she doesn't want to exactly kill Ferdinand, letting him go with what he wants doesn't seem wise either. This is when it would be appropriate to take a hostage.

Ashe noticeably struggles to avoid Annette's gaze. "Please. Ferdinand. Just take it."

It's a hard decision for him to make; the best Annette can do is trust that he's right. The Kingdom needs more people like that anyways.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Ferdinand yelps when upon advancing into the forest, a shadow slinks out before him. He nearly strikes the horrid thing when he notices the pale skin of his could-be killer and relaxes. "Hubert, you need to be careful, I thought you were a horrid beast, the way you just came out at me."

Unamused, Hubert knocks some of his black curls over his eye. "Usually I'm the one to pull a knife on someone in the dark. You seem ill at ease. Ladislava, is she…."

Ferdinand nods. "Yes. She… it was fast. Not a fitting death for someone as noble as herself. I'd like to think that she at least didn't suffer. Um. Here, I have the ax."

Aymr's glow fades once falling into the gloved hands of Hubert, who has no Crest of his own. For the brief moment that it is held high in the air like a torch, Ferdinand can see the mess of things that Annette's Excalibur spell made of the forest. Hubert's face is scratched all over from branches and thorns, one particularly thin gash right below his eye.

Ferdinand gulps. "Is Bernadetta — "

"Yes, just a little shaken up. I'm giving her a moment to breathe," Hubert mutters, turning back towards their original positions. He looks up at the overhanging brush. "Ignatz, Leonie. Come."

Two soft _thwoomps!_ follow, and the two former Golden Deer land besides the two of them, one noticeably more distressed than the other. Both are dressed in black robes, just like the rest of Hubert's assassins do. It's bizarre seeing such familiar faces that don't belong with the Black Eagle Strike Force.

"Is Gilbert going to be, alright?" Ignatz quickly asks. "I didn't mean to hit him so hard — "

Hubert's eyes narrow. "Is there a reason you are so adamant about the health of our adversaries?"

Ignatz frowns. "No, I just — I didn't realize we were — "

"Hubert, back off," Leonie snaps, fingers twitching towards her bow. "We did what you asked, alright? Are we good with this initiation?"

"Hardly," Hubert snaps back. "But for now, I'll say…" And here he chooses his words very carefully. "Good work. I'm sure Bernadetta is pleased for us to no longer be so dependent on her archery. Your aim was good. Though losing General Ladislava over Her Majesty's Relic is… a failure. We failed." He peeks past his bangs to make that very clear to Ferdinand. Ferdinand notes the gray that hoods Hubert's tired gaze. "We must depart for Garreg Mach immediately. Ignatz, would you mind fetching Bernadetta for us?"

"Huh?" Ignatz says dimly. "You didn't see her walk by?"

Hubert blinks. "What? Preposterous, Bernadetta was taking a moment to breathe at her vantage point, she couldn't have — "

"Nope," Ignatz shrugs. "Must have ducked out of your peripherals. She went that way." And he jerks a thumb over his shoulder indicating where Ferdinand just came in from.

"Oh dear," Ferdinand mutters to himself, before sprinting back the way he came.

It's not long before Ferdinand finds Bernadetta. She tiptoes across the grass with her arms bent up to her chest, like a child playing spy. But the moment Ferdinand arrives, a shiver runs up her spine and she stops in place, bowing her head down. "Bernadetta, it is not yet safe to go out there."

"Yes," Hubert coughs, having just used up what little energy he's sustained from Rhodos sprinting after them. "What are you doing, praytell?"

Instinctively, Ferdinand throws a hand onto Hubert's back. For once, Hubert accepts his touch.

"Um…" Bernadetta stutters, still not facing them. "I… um… wanted to see if I could ask Annette and Ashe if we could at least bring back General Ladislava's body."

Something catches in Ferdinand's throat; he understands. Ladislava was a close friend of the Black Eagle Strike Force, and one of the earliest recruits of the war. He remembers when they were all holed up in that ghastly Enbarr fortress for a few weeks, Ladislava went above and beyond the call of duty, doing rounds with each and every one of the Black Eagles. She taught them card games, and told war stories to pass the time. Like Randolph, she was a good person.

Good enough to make Ferdinand question his actions. Should he have tried harder to defeat the two Blue Lions stationed there? It's no good to let them walk away from what they did.

"I don't think they'll let us, Bernie," Ferdinand frowns. He turns back to Hubert, and speaks to him very directly while Bernadetta is unable to see them. "Unless we can offer Annette's father an expert healer like Linhardt, who is many days away from us right now, we are just going to exacerbate this conflict."

Hubert snorts in response, not pleased with Ferdinand's insinuation.

Ferdinand had asked for Marianne to join the company for the night, but Hubert refused. "_I'm less concerned with testing Marianne than I am Ignatz and Leonie. And in case I'm right about those two, it would be unwise to allow the Golden Deer to outnumber us. Bernadetta, myself, and you will be enough,"_ he drawled.

"Bernadetta, your loyalty to Ladislava is very thoughtful, the Emperor would appreciate that," Hubert does his best to sound pleasant between his gritted teeth. "But Ferdinand is correct. We took two of theirs, and they took one of ours. I think we'd all appreciate it if we kept those numbers the same."

Hubert then struts off without comment. It's probably the last they'll hear of him until they return to Garreg Mach.

Bernadetta stays perfectly still, body folded in tight. Knowing her, she is probably crying. When she gets like this, it's best to give her some space, though that doesn't stop Ferdinand from giving her a reassuring pat on the back.

* * *

It's very late when Hubert knocks on Edelgard's door. She almost wants to ignore him, but the array of lit candles make it all too obvious that she is awake, so dressed in her sleeping grown, long white hair left free over her left shoulder, she opens the door.

It's upsetting that after pooling so much effort into convincing Hubert to cease his presence on the field while he recovers, he has returned to her bloodied and bruised. She should have known he'd disobey yet another direct order. They stare at each other for some time, and Edelgard considers making a joke. Something about vampires needing an invitation to come in, but she knows it would sound disingenuous.

Edelgard turns away, and sits on her bed. Hubert shuts the door behind him and twists the chair away from her desk, slinking into it carefully, wincing when his leg stretches across the floor.

This is going to be a sad conversation, she can already tell.

"We recovered Aymr, Your Majesty," Hubert says, leaning into his thighs and folding his hands together.

Edelgard stays still. They both know Aymr doesn't matter. As artificial as her own strength is, courtesy of her accursed uncle. But it's a powerful symbol to the people, and it wouldn't do to not have it in their possession.

"We lost Ladislava."

Edelgard nods. So used she is to news like this, it makes it difficult to react anymore. If she cried at every death, she wouldn't have time to lead anyone. Eyes glassy, she tries to stay composed. It isn't hard. "Was it…"

"Yes, it was not the best way to go out," Hubert looks away. "Gilbert's daughter, Annette, she… is far more aggressive than I predicted. If I may note, while we counted on the carriage being guarded by the Gautier boy and Galatea…" Lately, he has taken to using surnames when appropriate to distance himself a bit more from the work. "...they were not there. Given that they are usually the protectors of such things as Areadbhar," he says, given Edelgard a moment to remember a similar mission from three years ago. "It was unusual to not find them."

Edelgard continues to nod, not sure what else to do with herself. "Yet we still lost."

"Yes," Hubert frowns. Another moment passes, one that should have been occupied with _something. _"Ignatz and Leonie proved themselves to be capable, though I'm still concerned about…"

"Excuse me, I need a moment," Edelgard cuts him off. She remembers back during her academy days, Hubert would interrupt her night's sleep often, largely because neither of them slept very much. Their mutual bad habit remains the same, but neither have the time for these sorts of drop-ins anymore.

Because if Hubert isn't asleep in his room when he is supposed to be, he is likely prowling in the shadows of someone else's bedroom, and if Edelgard isn't asleep when she is supposed to be, she is likely working on the campaign. Tonight, she was reading letters from commoners all over Fodlan when Hubert knocked.

"Did they at least…" Edelgard starts to say.

"No," Hubert shakes his head. "Gilbert was injured, but I doubt it killed him. He has a habit of continuously showing up regardless of how many times we knock him down."

Another unsettling quiet unfolds between them. For a second, Hubert seems to look over at the stack of letters, but quickly loses interest and gazes at the floor. Probably the first moment he's had to breathe all day.

"I don't like taking the Deer alongside our missions, it makes me uneasy," Hubert admits. "We cannot continue to hold off on this, we must initiate them as soon as possible."

Edelgard nods. She probably agrees, but would prefer to not do the official ceremony. She is positive that it scared twenty years off Bernadetta when she brought Aymr to her throat five years ago and interrogated the poor thing on her loyalty to the Empire. But with Aymr back in her grasp, Edelgard really doesn't have the excuse to put off the ceremony any longer.

"When?" Edelgard asks in a dreary voice.

Hubert bites his lip and looks at her. He must have done something distasteful.

Edelgard gets up with a start and scans her room, quickly reaching for her travelling cloak.

At the sight of her already getting ready, Hubert smiles, which is at least a little familiar to the days of old. Edelgard wishes Hubert smiled at other things, like perhaps the many compliments and pet names Ferdinand crafts for him each day, rather than smiling at her frustrations with his flagrant disobedience.

"I can't believe you," Edelgard growls. "Tell me you at least had our Eagles do it, and not those infernal bandits like last time…"

Hubert's smile gets even wider. "Eh. With all due respect, Your Majesty, it stimulates the economy when I hire bandits to kidnap our newest recruits in the dead of the night."

* * *

The black sack that has veiled Lysithea's vision for the past hour suddenly rushes off of her face. Before she can even absorb her surroundings, she feels an ax cross her throat. Her pink eyes roll upwards and she sees Edelgard looking straight at her, knelt down to her level.

Edelgard's silver hair pierces through the murky black of wherever they are. It is almost haunting.

Furthermore, Lysithea has never Edelgard looking so… so normal. Her hair is down like it was back in their academy days, and in place of her highly formal wear, she seems to still be in her pajamas, with a traveling cloak hastily buttoned over her shoulders (not that Lysithea would ever point it out, but Edelgard missed a button in her apparent rush over here.)

It's sort of amusing, but Edelgard's face is anything but. It looks like the face someone makes before they murder someone.

"Um… hi?" Lysithea says.

Edelgard doesn't flinch. "Why have you chosen to walk this path alongside me?"

"Huh?" Lysithea asks. "Oh, please. Is this some kind of test? You already accepted me you jerk."

Edelgard hesitates, then nods gently. "For you, Lysithea von Ordelia, this is something of a formality, largely because I'm exhausted. Do not betray my trust by ever telling anyone that. But this will likely be far more difficult for your friends."

"F-friends?" Lysithea squeaks. "You didn't take them here too, did you?"

Edelgard nods.

"B-but," Lysithea shakes her head. "Edelgard, not all of them want to…"

"I know, and it's fine," Edelgard responds. "But we can't hold soldiers that will soon turn against us even longer. General Ladislava just died retrieving this for me." She nods at Aymr. "It breaks my heart, and I warn you to never make a sacrifice like that."

Lysithea nods, her heart racing. She should be calmer, but it's hard for some reason.

"I just have one question for you, Lysithea, and then you may go," Edelgard says. "Why me? If you were truly passionate about this movement, would it not be better for you to join the Church of Seiros?"

It takes a second for Lysithea to process that. "Excuse me?"

Edelgard shrugs, though her arms stay still, ax still held to Lysithea's throat. "We are on the offensive side of this war. The Church of Seiros is poised perfectly on the defensive; their side of struggles far less than ours. Rhea, herself, hardly ever leaves Fhridiad so I hear."

Lysithea feels heat rising to her temple. "So… what?"

Edelgard doesn't hesitate. "Lysithea, we cannot help you. But they can. They have more resources and understanding of Crests. They can heal you, give you the lifespan you deserve. I cannot. I cannot spare anything for any one person."

Lysithea frowns. She has thought about this, and many times has even considered shifting sides. But there's a reason she kept Edelgard's mission so close to her heart.

"If you lived, and if you won the war," Edelgard says with barely any comprehension of how violent her words are. "You could gain influence in the existing power structures, and change them from within.

Lysithea snorts. "That's hardly true, and very naive."

Lysithea notices Edelgard smirk at that, but she ignores it for the sake of this performance. "People keep saying that… why didn't the Emperor do this, or why do you choose to fight. I hate it. For me at least, everyone knows my deal. I hate Crests, I have — lots of things. It makes me radical." She pauses to make sure Edelgard is following her. "I bet even Rhea knew I was radical. She would know what I really want, and would make sure to not let me rise up. Even if that means not curing my — um — problem."

Edelgard still doesn't change from her neutral expression.

"People like us who want things," Lysithea explains. "Will never be able to change the power structures that exist. We can only build new ones."

Edelgard narrows her eyes.

"Besides, Edelgard," Lysithea shrugs. "You have the same problem as me."

"I don't have a choice," Edelgard says back, as if she already accounted for every direction this coversation could have gone.

"I don't either," Lysithea smiles. "This is the only path I can walk in good consciousness."

Edelgard rises, as does the ax. Lysithea closes her eyes, half-expecting the tip of the ax to tap her on the right shoulder, and then the left. But nothing comes to her. When she opens her eyes again, she sees Edelgard smiling at her, ax sinking into the dirt besides her.

"I don't wish to knight anyone else," Edelgard explains. "I don't like the idea of knighthood — that people would willingly sacrifice themselves for me. I know that if I let those — as you say, power structures — continue within my Empire, then I shall become just like Rhea. So instead, I welcome you to the Black Eagle Strike Force with open arms."

Lysithea furrows her brow and thinks about for a second. "Does that mean I get to hug you again?"

Edelgard rolls her eyes, but the tiny smirk is unmistakable. "If you must."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a turning point, and I'm really excited for what comes next. I came into this fic hoping to hit some political nuance, and we're at that point. The next chapter will be about Lorenz, Leonie, Ignatz, Raphael, Hilda, and Marianne. Some of it will be hopeful and emotional, some of it will be raw, and some of it will just be difficult.
> 
> Aaah I can't wait to start writing it. Thanks for the support again.


	10. Sifting Mud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard holds an ax to many throats and looks scary.

The cold of the night bristles the hairs on the back of Marianne's neck. When the bag rushes past her eyes, and she sees Edelgard staring down at her, Marianne flinches, tears already coming to her eyes. Her body buckles in, chin bashing into the ax that Edelgard so deftly holds to her throat, and Marianne bites down on what would have been an anguished scream.

"I'm sorry!" Marianne cries out. "I should have been done better at the Rhodos Coast, it's my fault that everything happened. I shouldn't have tried, it's my fault."

"Marianne," Edelgard says in a voice that cleaves through _everything._

Marianne looks up at Edelgard. Never before has the Emperor even recognized her by name. She feels unworthy knelt down beneath her. Why hasn't Edelgard just killed her already? Goddess knows she deserves it.

"I'm… I'm not trying to punish you," Edelgard says with some sorrow. "I just want to ask why you want to walk this path with me."

"Um…" Marianne bites down on her lip. How can she tell Edelgard _that_? It's embarrassing. Oh, she should have just stayed at home at her father's request! She never should have answered that letter Claude sent her two years ago. No no. This can't be happening.

"Marianne, please," Edelgard urges. "I know this is frightening, but please understand my position. I cannot dole out trust to everyone, though I wish I could."

Marianne nods back in her panic. She wishes Hilda were here, even if just to hold her hand. This would be easier then. "E-Edelgard…" Her face flushes at just saying the name. She hopes she didn't say it in a weird way.

Edelgard shifts uncomfortably, but is remarkably patient.

"I… I admire you," Marianne whispers. "Y-you have given up s-so much for your ideals. I just — " Marianne looks up to Edelgard and immediately regrets it, bowing back down. " — I just wish I could be strong like you."

"Marianne," Edelgard repeats, voice softer now. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I owe my life to you, in fact."

Huh?

That doesn't make sense. Marianne failed Edelgard.

"Y-Your Majesty," Marianne stutters. "You must be mistaken. I failed you."

Edelgard says nothing for some time. Now Marianne really regrets all of this. So stupid.

"If you're concerned about me nearly drowning, Marianne, that's alright," Edelgard whispers, kind of like how Hilda might. "I baited Dimitri out there. That isn't your fault, I was being foolish to think that Dimitri would go under but not myself."

Marianne shakes her head aggressively. "You aren't foolish, Your Majesty. You're very wise to see through… the… the… um…" She struggles with her words, so clumsy in her mouth despite how many times they've floated through her mind with such vigor. "...the lies of the Church…"

Damnation, she was thought to think.

But Edelgard doesn't care about that, and for some reason, that makes sense to Marianne.

"Yes, I would do anything to help free the people of Fodlan," Edelgard says, and her voice sounds so Imperial. Yet so human, like she's just a friend. But they aren't friends, they're… nothing. "As well as to give them strength. I'm glad you believe in this too."

Marianne finds some bravery thinking of what Claude would instruct her to do, and looks up at Edelgard. She almost looks away again, but finds some solace in the woman's gaze.

"I do not often get to speak of my ideals given the intensity of this war," Edelgard smiles softly. "I know some are here only because they have belief in _me_, but I would prefer that they trust the ideas I speak about. I am happy you gravitate to them, Marianne."

But the ax hasn't moved. Marianne still feels so close to death, and just when she decided to choose life too.

"I remember you were always in the Church, Marianne," Edelgard says matter-of-factly. "What were you praying for?"

Marianne's face flushes; she was praying for her death. But she cannot tell Edelgard that, it would reveal her as the weakling she is. What can she say? Maybe something about Dorte? Or animals? Everyone knew that she liked animals…

"Marianne," Edelgard repeats. It's a command.

Marianne can't help it. "I wanted to die," she says it and it feels like such a release. Only Hilda knows about that. "S-some people don't have Crests, and want one. Others have one, and don't want it. But it never goes away."

Marianne looks away again, loose hair falling over her face. It's better that way.

But then an arm slinks out underneath her own arms and pulls her close. Her forehead falls onto Edelgard's shoulder, and now the ax is away from her neck. She can see it in her peripherals before Edelgard throws another arm over Marianne's back.

"I'm sorry," Marianne cries. "I didn't mean to make you sad."

* * *

"Igantz Victor, why have you chosen to walk this path with me?"

Oh dear. He knew this was coming, he knew this was coming… he looks up and yup, Edelgard's about to ax him. Great.

"Uh… I haven't," Ignatz quickly admits, and then braces himself for impact. But nothing comes. When he looks up, the ax has been set aside. "Um… don't you want to kill me?"

"No," Edelgard shakes her head, eying the ax hesitantly for a moment before turning back on him. "Unless you're a spy, but that seems unlikely. I'm told that you are a believer in the Goddess?"

Ignatz blinks, and then shuffles out of his grovel and into a kneeling position. "Yes! Yes, erm, I do believe. Though… seeing Lady Rhea's actions in the name of Seiros has certainly… shaken my faith."

Edelgard frowns, likely from her obvious distaste of Lady Rhea's name. But at least she's not mad at him in particular. He figured this because he accidentally looked at Hubert funny the other day.

Edelgard says, "Yes, the Church tends to do many things that go against the teachings of Seiros, but no one has been questioning it. You understand that is why we fight, correct?"

Ignatz looks away from her. Eye contact could save his life, but he's always sucked at it. "I don't think war is the answer. I know I'm a good bowman, but I don't like hurting people."

"I don't either," Edelgard says. "But still I fight."

Ignatz shuts his eyes; this whole thing is making him feel so guilty. "I'm an artist!" he blurts out. "I prefer to do that. I think — at least for me — uh, the pen is mightier than the sword, heh heh."

When he meets Edelgard's gaze again, she appears somewhat confused, yet thoughtful. "I hadn't heard of that, apologies." She cranes her neck high, looking somewhere past Ignatz, and for a moment, his instincts tell him to steal her ax and kill her. Because that's what a good soldier would do. But he doesn't do that because that's awful.

"I was checking if Hubert was here, he wouldn't like me admitting this," Edelgard explains. "I am uncomfortable with some of the messaging of my leadership. Apparently, history books are being rewritten to serve Adrestria, and I understand how my rhetoric of a dragon being unfit to rule has lead to some… undesirable feelings."

Igantz leans forward; how can someone lead a nation yet have so little grasp over it? Though perhaps Edelgard is attempting to avoid what Lady Rhea has done to Fodlan. "Thank you for telling me that."

"Yes," Edelgard nods. "I have not seen your work, but I trust you. Or rather, I'm trying to trust you, and if you are willing, the Empire could employ you as an artist."

Ignatz nearly leaps off the ground.

She catches his excitement fast, and promptly corrects herself, "But it would be for art that favors the commoners of the Empire. Some of it might be propaganda yes, but…"

"Oh," Ignatz feels the wind knocked out of him. "I'm not sure I can… that sounds like a lot. I'm not even fully behind this war, I'd rather stay neutral and go home, if that's — um — allowed."

Edelgard frowns, seemingly highly disappointed. "It is. Though, I would prefer it if you stayed here. I won't… make you do something you're uncomfortable about."

Ignatz furrows his brow and looks at Edelgard for some time. To see someone so powerful be so fragile and vulnerable before him… she's utterly downcast, as if he really does want him to stay. It… catches him so off-guard, he can hardly think of himself. He just wants to make Edelgard happy, as he tends to do for others. But it's his life. Claude always told him to make the decisions that were best for him.

What does he want?

He remembers how Edelgard cruelly slayed Claude before all of them; does he want vengeance for that? Claude would want Ignatz to move on but — Ignatz does want to move on too… but it feels wrong.

"Do you believe in the Goddess, Edelgard?" he asks.

Edelgard hardly looks up. "No, my faith was shattered long ago."

"That makes me sad," Ignatz says. "I don't know much about Adrestria… are the people religious?"

"Some. Like anywhere else."

"Well… what if I make art of that? Like — Goddess stuff, it could remind people of what this war is about…" Ignatz says, immediately biting his tongue. As if he is good enough to make artwork of the Goddess… he still remembers the fiasco with Ingrid. So embarrassing.

"Are you certain of that?" Edelgard asks.

No. "Yes." Ah! Shoot.

Edelgard gets up though, so Ignatz guesses he should stand across her too and — wow, he's taller than her! Go figure. She extends her hand and he takes it.

"It's a deal," she says.

This also feels wrong, like it is some kind of split reality where he makes choices that scare him. But based on how he feels seeing Edelgard smile, maybe that isn't a bad thing at all.

* * *

"Leonie Pinelli. Why have you chosen to walk this path with me?"

Leonie blinks rapidly to catch up. She should have known Edelgard would have pulled such a stunt on her and her friends. Hands bound behind her back, she is pretty defenseless with Aymr — which Leonie helped recover by the way! — held to her throat. No weapons, no flexibility, not even proper dress for fighting. Her pajamas are too baggy and patched up for her to fight like Hell.

Though Leonie notes that like herself, Edelgard is also dressed like she didn't know this was happening. It's possible that it is the least refined she's ever seen the young Emperor. She is wearing these flowery pajamas hardly veiled by a robe hastily tied around her waist. Skin plain with no makeup, and rings below her eyes. It's very honest. It reminds her of how Claude would present himself to the Golden Deer. Never with pretense. But then again, he's six feet under thanks to this woman. Leonie can't forget that.

"I…" Leonie bows her head, mind racing. "...promised Captain Jeralt I would protect the Professor at all costs."

Edelgard narrows her eyes and brings the ax closer. "I thought you believed Byleth to be like Kronya and Solon, absorbed and replaced by the darkness."

Leonie bites her lip. Of course her snide remarks would come back to haunt her. "I don't think someone like Solon would have risked so much just to rescue Lysithea."

Edelgard doesn't react, eyes still wide open as if they are haunted. "I don't believe you."

Leonie blinks. "Excuse me?"

"You think that I arranged for Jeralt's murder, don't you?" Edelgard asks as more of a statement. "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer, is that right?"

Leonie grits her teeth. The Emperor is paranoid. Maybe she's right about Leonie, she doesn't trust Edelgard yet, but that doesn't matter. She's never had any stake in this war, just Captain Jeralt's memory. She wants to do him proud. Besides, Jeralt never trusted the Church anyways. She only learned that through mutterings in his office, but he made his point clear: _Stay away from Rhea._

"Maybe," Leonie shrugs. "I'm not going to kill you, though."

Edelgard rolls her eyes. "How reassuring. I'd defend myself, and remind you that I had nothing to do with what happened to Jeralt, but I doubt the truth would phase someone like you. Perhaps you're better off with a fool like Dimitri."

Leonie closes her eyes. Why is Edelgard being so mean? Is this some kind of vengeance for what Leonie said to her in the dungeon? It takes her some time to find the right words. "If… if you want to kill me, Edelgard, then why don't you just get it over with?"

The ax draws blood from Leonie's neck. A thin trickle that will stick to her skin and clothing. A warning perhaps.

"You've killed_ two_ of my best friends," Leonie says in a strong voice, one that Captain Jeralt would be proud of. "I have a right to not trust you. Be thankful I'm even considering helping your cause."

Edelgard stays still. It's clear to Leonie at least that she's thinking about this conversation, meaning there _is _a way out.

"Do not think me so heartless," Edelgard finally says with some caution. "Yes, I have spilled blood for my cause, but that does not mean I forget about those I've killed. I'm sure you'll find this insulting, but I grieve for Claude. I wanted it to go some other way."

Leonie nods along; that sounds about right. "Do you understand why that's so hard for me to believe?"

"I do," Edelgard says curtly. "The problem is that for you to walk this path, you need to tread on top of tragedy in the same way. I hate myself for doing what I did to Claude, but that doesn't mean I regret it. It had to happen."

"You're wrong!," Leonie growls. It's likely not a good idea to speak so plainly here, but she will not allow this woman to get away with such atrocities. It's wrong, and to Leonie at least, it doesn't sound like the kind of cause commoners like her should get behind. "It's easy for people like you to make those divides."

Edelgard frowns, and there's this pain that lives on in her eyes. She sighs and looks away. "I'm sorry, Leonie. But I cannot allow you to walk with me."

A rough hand runs into Leonie's hood, dragging her up to her feet. Knobby knees twitch like harp strings from the cold.

"Your Majesty, allow me to take care of this," a lowly voice hisses past Leonie's ear. "You should not be shedding any blood tonight."

Ah. Hubert. Edelgard's right hand man. Even harder to reason with, and probably a far bloodier death. Leonie twists around to look him in the eye and swear her allegiance, but a knife presses to the back of her neck.

Leonie swallows whatever it was she going to say and groans. "I've made enemies with all the wrong people, huh?"

Hubert doesn't say anything, keeps his eyes steady on the road ahead as he walks her off.

* * *

Lorenz awakes with a start, immediately displeased with the ax held to his throat. Though he supposes when you keep with this sort of company, this behavior is to be expected. Still though, he meets eyes with a haggard looking Edelgard and says, "Oh! So barbaric. Must you do this, Edelgard?"

Edelgard nods. "You, of all the Golden Deer, must understand the predicament I am in."

Lorenz purses his lips; of course he knows, and in fact, he is surprised that she granted the Golden Deer sanctuary for as long as she's had. The potential political scandal from housing known rebels like Miss Goneril was great, yet Edelgard pursued this avenue of alliance anywho.

"I suppose I should blame myself for staying as long as I have," Lorenz pouts.

Edelgard rolls her eyes. "Lorenz, do enlighten me; why is that you have chosen to walk this path with me?"

Lorenz narrows his eyes. "Isn't that a little presumptuous?"

He is slightly miffed that Edelgard is wearing pajamas to his execution; a noble like him deserves a far grander death. If he somehow survives this, he is going to have a long discussion with Ferdinand about the importance of ceremony.

"Oh please," Edelgard smirks. "You would have tried to kill me, or at least made a show of your disapproval, by now."

"I suppose you are correct," Lorenz says, biting his lip. Why is it that he has so readily turned against the neutrality Claude set for the Alliance? It doesn't make sense to him, or rather, doesn't make sense to who he thinks he is supposed to be. Edelgard is a war lord; she has sacrificed the safety of her people in a mad pursuit for power.

But.

"Well… over the past five years, your war has taken me to many places I never thought I'd go," Lorenz admits. "It's been odd. I always thought after Garreg Mach, I would be — well, you don't care about that, do you?"

Edelgard raises an eyebrow, eyes remaining hauntingly still. "You misjudge me. Tell me. I admit I know little about you, aside from what Ferdinand has said, and you might know this, but I take everything he tells me at an arms' length."

Lorenz smiles. It pleases him that even his enemy — or former enemy — still appraised him. It's a sign of the kind of character Ferdinand will bring to his territory once this war has ended. Assuming he lives of course.

"Well, I was a soldier, not a noble," Lorenz explains. "At first, I joined to keep Claude in check. The fool knows nothing of civility or how these things must go — but… he knew a lot more than I gave him credit for." He pauses, and looks to Edelgard again. "You killed a very special person, Your Majesty."

Edelgard nods with such slight movement that only someone as physically close as Lorenz would notice.

He continues, "Over five years, I met many nobles. I found it abhorrent at how cowardly some nobles from the Alliance have behaved, and when amidst negotiations with Adestria, I found that some of your nobles were… erm, ignoble."

"You can be harsher, Lorenz," Edelgard smiles with some amusement, and suddenly the threat of her ax becomes a little less imminent. "I intend to overthrow many of those nobles. Some, like Ferdinand and Bernadetta's father, have already been unseated."

Lorenz frowns; he was aware of that. Though he's also heard rumors that neither man was merely unseated, that something far more insidious has come to them, though Lorenz doesn't wish to know the truth of it right now. He would prefer to trust Edelgard.

"My intention, Your Majesty, is to return home," Lorenz says, too frightened to look Edelgard in the eye here. He knows this move is a gamble for both him and her. "I wish to make sure the Alliance does not fall into civil war, and if I can, possibly persuade House Gloucester to be more vocal in its support for you."

After some silence, Lorenz is forced to search Edelgard's expression. She seems perplexed.

"I am surprised," Edelgard says, pausing to think. "That you are not in charge of House Gloucester yet."

"It's different in the Alliance," Lorenz says quickly. "We don't have leadership as strong as your own, Y-Your Majesty."

Edelgard nods again, face fixed in debate. "Forgive me, Lorenz, but I am unconvinced. I worry that letting you go will do more harm than good to my side."

Lorenz frowns again. He wishes he tried cozying up to Edelgard earlier in their Officer Academy days. After all, that was sort of the whole point of them schooling together, start building the relationships that will fortify the country. But Lorenz was too intimidated by Hubert to try networking with the Emperor-to-be. Now he must once again deal with those old outdated preconceptions regarding who he is.

"I'm not like them, Your Majesty. I know you don't have much to go on," Lorenz tilts his head to the side. "But I don't want to serve as a noble in a society where nobles are… pardon my bluntness, but the villains."

This seems to please Edelgard, though the glint in her eye tells him that she knows that he knows that was a good thing to say to her. Though he _does_ speak the truth.

"What would you do if you were not born into power, Lorenz, I wonder," Edelgard says out loud, eying the stars. "I wonder it a lot myself. I have to ask myself that question a lot, in fact."

Lorenz narrows his eyes; he has heard rumors of Edelgard's unfortunate upbringing, only whispered by the most oily and corrupt Alliance nobles. And he is positive that whatever it is that happened to her is the conclusive piece that made her go to war. Too caught up thinking about Edelgard, Lorenz slips out a fast response. "I'm not sure, perhaps I'd be a poet."

He cringes. Why did he tell her that? It makes him sound foolish.

But Edelgard laughs, actually _laughs_. "Ah, yes. Manuela has mentioned to me once or twice that you are quite the writer."

Right. Back in the Academy days, Manuela stumbled onto his writings and he was greatly embarrassed to find her singing his written word out loud! That is poor etiquette, she of all people would — no, Manuela had horrible etiquette, nevermind. Additionally, Lorenz had forgotten that both Professors Hanneman and Manuela sided with the Empire about three years into the war. It's… somewhat encouraging towards his recent change of heart.

"Lorenz, I'm worried," Edelgard sighs, finally dragging the ax away. The points of her boots dig into the dirt and she gazes up at the sky. "For the future of Fodlan. Oftentimes, I wonder if there was another way to topple the Church of Seiros and their false prophet, but I fear I have embroiled too many of our people into battle."

Lorenz nods, trying not to sigh in relief at his recently freed neck. "You do care about the Alliance, then?"

Edelgard gives him a peculiar look. "Yes," she snips. "Always. Every territory, every citizen, all of them."

"Hm," Lorenz smiles at last. "Well. I promise you that I'll do my best to protect our people, then. Then, when I can, I'll offer aide to the Empire?"

Edelgard considers this. "You are a powerful speaker, but you are right about many Alliance nobles being cowardly. Something might… need to be arranged, to get you into a more powerful seat sooner."

Lorenz's lips suddenly feel very dry. She's not thinking of having his father — disposed of? Is she?

"I would not want that," Lorenz says quickly. "No matter how despicable and corrupt my father has become, I can — I can find another way."

Edelgard looks at him with some surprise, and then smiles. "Lorenz, I wasn't — ha. I suppose we have killed enough to make you think that. No, none of that, I was thinking more of… ah, you are a good person to discuss this with."

Edelgard's knees flop over into the dirt, which is highly unsanitary, but a decent enough signal that this conversation isn't even close to being complete.

"Have you ever heard of an _election_?" she asks.

Lorenz pales. "Yes, but aren't those — erm — slow?"

Edelgard grins. "We'll win the war soon, fear not. I am just trying to think of how to get you into a higher seat without force, and I am curious as to what you think."

Lorenz isn't sure what to say just yet.

Edelgard hitches her knee beneath her chin. "Ferdinand and I agree on the idea of public elections, after all, and if we are to agree on anything, I must be losing my mind. So I'd appreciate your thoughts."`

* * *

When the bag is pulled off Raphael's head, the first thing he sees is Edelgard's haunted visage, her smooth pale face staring at him with disinterest. He feels the ax to his throat, and notices how she holds it so closely between the two of them.

"Raphael Kirsten, why have you chosen to walk this path with me?"

Oh geez. Is it something he said? Maybe it's because he's been hogging food at the old cafeteria… but Byleth told him it's cool! So… ah!

Raphael frowns, still feeling like he's about to get chopped up. But despite that, he is honest. "Honestly, Edelgard, I haven't really made up my mind on that."

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Raphael sighs. "I want to help my friends, obviously, but you killed one of my best friends over this war that — I don't understand. I don't get why we need to do this." He looks at her for a response, but Edelgard doesn't flinch. "I'm just a commoner, you know? To me, it seems like this whole thing is a bunch of nobles getting mad at each other."

Raphael looks to Edelgard again. Surely this is the moment the scary lady decides to decapitate him. But then Edelgard surprises Raphael, and draws the ax away, and even flashes a smile to him. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?"

Raphael just stares. Is he supposed to bow down? Shoot, Lorenz taught him the etiquette for this kind of thing and he totally zoned out during that lecture…

"Go on," Edelgard continues. "Please, tell me more."

"Huh?" Raphael blurts out. "Oh, sorry, Edelgard, um, Your Highness, I mean… I'm not like the Black Eagles. You guys are all nobles, you get the politics more. Me? I'm from the country. Whoever is in charge, it doesn't affect me."

Edelgard nods. "It could, though. I want commoners like you to have a chance at ruling. It's a complete upheaval of the system, and it doesn't work without commoners like you around."

Raphael nods along, because Lorenz taught him to do that when someone else is talking. "Yeah… when you put it like that, I guess so. I wouldn't know the first thing about ruling, I just want to take care of my sister."

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah, she's uh — " Raphael finally rises so that he's on his knees and makes a gesture with his hand to indicate how small his sister is. " — Lysithea sized, uh, old Lysithea from five years ago, I guess."

This seems to amuse Edelgard.

"I only went to Garreg Mach so I could become a knight," Raphael explains. "Then I can make the money I need to support her."

At that, though, Edelgard frowns. "Well, we certainly don't have knights here. I'm… uncomfortable with knighthood. There are some on my side who would die for me, and I really truly don't wish that fate on anyone. We all deserve to be here, as much as the other."

Raphael draws back. "I don't remember you talking like this at school."

Edelgard allows another light smirk. "I'm trying on the language of a more peaceful ruler."

"But… I mean, you're going to war against Faerghus next, right?"

"I highly doubt we can reason with King Dimitri."

Raphael looks back down at the grass. He always kind of liked the Blue Lions, and he thought Dimitri was amazing in combat. Sad to see what he's becoming. The two of them never got share that Cheesy Verona Stew together...

Raphael sighs. It's hard being so serious, he's used to being the life of the party. "I don't think you can rule Fodlan like you want, uh, if you go around killing people."

Raphael continues to stare at the ground; he can't bare to see Edelgard's expression change to one of distrust. But then he sees her knees pop up, and her boots sink into the mud. She walks away, and he turns to see her staring up at the sky.

Raphael rises slowly, looking at the mud around them. He notices that the groove where her ax lied is very deep, as if she's dropped it there many times this night. It gives him a little hope towards the fate of his friends.

"I don't know how else to do it," Edelgard says, possibly mostly to herself. Raphael has no idea what he's supposed to say to that.

"Raphael," Edelgard says, and her voice cuts through the air. She sends a withering gaze his way, and against the dark of the night, that's all he can really make out, aside from her silver hair. "I want you to speak to Ferdinand and Bernadetta. They are working on our public education plan, and I'm sure they would value your perspective… you are friends with Bernadetta right?"

Raphael thinks about that. Bernadetta used to be really scared of him.

"Well she speaks fondly of you, anyways," Edelgard sighs. "You're right about me, I do come from a class of nobles, aside from Dorothea, whom I also think you would get along with very well."

Raphael palms his short hair. "Whoa, I get to live?"

Edelgard stifles a laugh and marches towards him fast, extending her hand to him. "Raphael, you will be paid a knight's salary as a member of the Black Eagle Strike Force. Your first mission is to escort Lorenz and Lysithea back to the Alliance so that they may trigger negotiations with the six families. I can have a party of mine meet you there to return with. I will suggest however, that if you do value your sister's life so much… it might be best to relocate her here. It's safer."

Raphael swallows and then rises, gripping Edelgard's hard. He's surprised at how tight her grip is, then again, he's heard the rumors from Lysithea about Edelgard's twin crests and how they make her so powerful.

"Thanks Edelgard… uh, I mean, Your Highness — oh wait, is it — Your Majesty?"

Edelgard rolls her eyes. "It's Edelgard. Call me that one more time and I'll start referring to you as Your Burliness." Quickly, she cringes. As to why, Raphael doesn't know.

"But… but that's a cool name, can you call me that?"

* * *

"Hilda Goneril, tonight I have asked all of your friends why they chosen to walk this path with me… but for you, I think there is no need."

Hilda's neck burns from the push of Edelgard's ax. The girl doesn't dare open her eyes; she is sure that this is how she dies.

"There are letters we intercepted from you, letters intended for your brother," Edelgard monologues in a drawl, seemingly disinterested in this whole charade.

Dammit. She should have waited. She just figured that… that if she didn't say anything, her brother would do something stupid. Like destroy the neutrality Claude gave his life to preserve. Too many people were left alive from Derdriu and Rhodos, most notably Judith, Dimitri, and Rhea. That is more than enough to destroy the Empire, she thinks.

"I understand your intent," Edelgard says suddenly, the ax slipping from Hilda's neck and dropping to the grass besides her. But still Hilda keeps her head bowed. "You wanted to protect Garreg Mach and your friends, is that right?"

Hilda chances a look at the girl. Edelgard seems so — fatigued. Nothing like the fancy, pompous princess she remembers from school, more along the lines of the haggard general that kept Claude working around the clock. Now just face to face with her, within reach of death.

"I don't believe in your war, Edelgard," Hilda says in a small voice.

Edelgard considers this. But ultimately shrugs and rises to her feet. "It is not my task to convince you. I'm assuming your sense of justice has been overcome by the love of your family."

Hilda frowns. That's not fair. This woman has taken so much from not just her, but from everyone, yet she so freely lobs insults around like gauntlets. She gets to her feet. "You killed my best friend."

Edelgard turns away, neck craning towards the sky. "I don't know what else I was supposed to do."

Hilda narrows her eyes. Edelgard stands so far away, and she even left her stupid ax behind. The ax that beheaded Claude. If Hilda wanted, she could probably swoop Aymr from the ground and cleave the head off of Edelgard. But that isn't what she wants. She's hated this war from the start, and she's wanted no part of it.

All that really kept her around was Claude… and Marianne. But she already knows how Marianne feels towards Edelgard. And Hilda is sad that she can't inspire her girlfriend like that. But… these things happen in war, don't they?

Leaving Aymr for Hilda to grab is a test. A test for what, Hilda doesn't know. But she won't take the bait. She walks past the weapon to make her point clear. "I didn't give the Alliance any information if that's what you — "

"I know," Edelgard interrupts. "I read your letters, and I felt foolish at the end of it. That's not why we're having this conversation."

Hilda bites her lip. "It isn't?"

"You resent me, don't you?" Edelgard asks the sky. "Not just for the war, not just for Claude, but right now, as I absorb your Deer into my ranks." Edelgard turns back and her eyes are positively haunted. "Lysithea, Marianne, Lorenz… they walk with me. They are family to you, does that change your mind at all?"

Hilda opens her mouth to say something, but Edelgard doesn't allow it. Her tone becomes more intense. "No, you hate me even more. You have conviction, I'll give you that. But you know what I must do."

Hilda looks back at the abandoned ax and shakes her head; _that_ seemed to be the obvious solution. Now she really has no idea what Edelgard intends for. "I thought you were going to kill me."

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. "Do you think me to be some sort of villain? I don't engage with that. I owe you a debt, and I'm going to do my best to pay it forward right now; what do you need from me?"

"Huh?" Hilda blurts out. This is so not what she expected from Edelgard. She wishes Claude were alive right now so she could mouth things over to him like, _What the fuck?_ But then he would laugh, and Edelgard ever being the Teacher's Pet, would get flustered at Claude as if it were his fault… "Edelgard, you're not making sense. I'm… your enemy. Shouldn't you kill me?"

Edelgard shrugs. "A lot of people are my enemy, but hardly any of them deserve the kind of attention I am giving you. You might kill me on the battlefield one day, but I would prefer it if we were at least at some kind of understanding."

Hilda crosses her arms. "You know, this is bullshit."

Edelgard leers at Hilda, and such anger cleaves a dark shadow underneath one of her eyes.

"You're so in love with your dumb ideals that you'd kill people over them," Hilda shakes her head. "If I stand in the way, shouldn't I die?"

She has no idea why exactly she is arguing for her own execution; maybe it's because Claude deserved more and got less.

Edelgard frowns and looks at the ground in this deep, deep sorrow. "I… I don't intend to the bloody conqueror history seems to be pushing me towards. I… I wish for you to understand me."

It's in that moment that Edelgard comes across more to Hilda as some needy girl who sits atop one of the highest thrones in the land, possibly against her will. But she doesn't want to shuffle her keister out, but she also doesn't want to participate in the gore of Kings and Queens. Hilda feels kind of sorry for her.

Hila grimaces. "You're a bully bringing an ax to my neck like that. I bet you like seeing us squirm."

Edelgard doesn't react, keeps her expression neutral. "I can give you safe passage to Fodlan's Throat or wherever you may wish to go," she says without eye contact. "I trust that you and Judith will join the Kingdom in Fhirdiad to destroy us." Edelgard hesitates, and because she probably can't help herself, adds on, "Know that Dimitri and Rhea are far more conniving than I."

Hilda nods. That's true. She doesn't like either of them. She never liked any of these powerful people… except for Claude. Shit. "I don't know what else I'd ask for… well. C-can I say goodbye to Marianne?"

Edelgard frowns again, and looks at Hilda very intently. "Oh dear. Am… am I separating you from her? I noticed there was something between you two..."

Hilda nods. "We're… yeah. You aren't lying to me? Marianne wants to walk with you?"

Edelgard nods soundlessly.

Hilda wishes that her integrity didn't strengthen so much over the past five years; because old Hilda would have just jumped ship and stayed with her girlfriend. But that's not a possibility now. Like Edelgard said, Hilda has _conviction._ And so does Marianne. Who deserves to have what she wants.

"I will speak with Hubert, otherwise he'll cut off your future correspondences I'm sure," Edelgard says boldly. "Promise not to take advantage of this trust."

Hilda scratches her head; she still doesn't get it. "W-why…?"

Edelgard offers a small smile. "A long time ago, I thought the person I loved was not someone who would ever walk with me. I'm fortunate in that they do now… but each day before what happened at the Holy Tomb was Hell. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

Hilda nods. This is all… so bizarre. It's not the war she's been experiencing, it's something else. Soon, she'll head back home and assist in defending the Alliance, which might… from the sounds of it, shift away the Fodlan War and into a Civil one. If Lorenz and Lysithea do what she thinks they will.

And she, Hilda, is the one who will have to manage that. Judith is probably angry beyond all reason, probably willing to work with a monster like Dimitri, the man who kidnapped a woman who is like a little sister to Hilda… Hilda is the one who will need to see reason. The only one left. Maybe she can pacify the Kingdom. Or something. Because this is the last time Edelgard will show her mercy.

Hilda doesn't say it out loud, because she'd hate to be wrong, and maybe it's dangerous to say out loud too. But she's positive that's why Edelgard is letting her go.

* * *

Leonie's knees bruise when they fall into the jagged stone floor of this — she supposes it's a clearing? It looks like the arena that Kronya baited the Knights of Seiros to. Though the Black Eagles were the class to lead the charge against the wretched girl five years ago, Caspar and Petra allowed Leonie to sink into their ranks so that Seteth wouldn't notice.

Hubert walks away from Leonie, and her hands are free. For whatever reason, he seems to not expect her to go over and kill him right then and there. So she restrains herself, instead rubbing her sore arms.

"Her Majesty is not responsible for what happened to Captain Jeralt," Hubert reaches up to fix his collar. "Nor is she responsible for what happened to Flayn, or the students who were turned into beasts the same day that Jeralt was killed."

Leonie begins to stand up. "Do you honestly think anyone could believe that? We all saw Monica and how she clung to Edelgard's side in the moons leading up to it."

Hubert shrugs. "Monica was a pest. Really, she was a spy sent down from the group that we have partnered with: Those Who Slither in the Dark." His tongue slides across his teeth, relishing the name as he pronounces it. It's so… theatrical. "Make no mistake. Though their aid is integral to our strategy, they are still our enemy."

Leonie shakes her head. "Sorry. I'm confused."

Hubert nods. For whatever reason, he's being patient with her. Why he chooses to act this way just before he kills her, she doesn't know. "You're familiar with Lysithea's… problem?"

Leonie frowns. "Yes."

"It was Those Who Slither in the Dark that did that to her. I'm not at liberty to speak of how Her Majesty knows of them," Hubert crosses his arms, nostrils flaring with disdain. "But they are Fodlan's true problem."

Leonie looks at her feet, trying to think. "What? Then — then why are we taking on the Church of Seiros?"

Hubert grins, pleased that she can keep up with him and ask the right questions. "Rhea isn't the true culprit, but she is a perpetrator and our most visible target. Yes, sometimes we lie to get our people to think the way we want them to, but if you want Fodlan, you must kill Rhea. That is essential."

Leonie furrows her brow. "That's messed up."

Hubert shrugs. "It's war. If we killed Those Who Slither in the Dark, do you think there is anyone in Fodlan who would appreciate that?"

Leonie thinks about that. It's her first time hearing of this group, so she guesses that Hubert is probably right.

"We need their power," Hubert explains. "We wouldn't be here without them, but that doesn't mean they get to enjoy the fruits of our labor."

Leonie shakes her head, her impatience causing her head to throb. "I'm — I'm sorry, I don't get it. Why are you telling me this? Why am I here? I just failed the initiation, right?"

Hubert smiles again, this time, flashing his canines at her. "The Black Eagle Strike Force is known throughout Adrestria. Their names are remembered and exonerated. You however are not fit to be part of that. You are vulgar and unwilling to cooperate."

Leonie droops her head. Great. The very things she prided herself on are getting her killed.

"But…" Hubert says carefully. "I'm not part of the Black Eagle Strike Force either."

"Huh?"

"Yes, I'm Her Majesty's retainer, and yes I am present at all relevant battles," Hubert says. "But when the war is over and our soldiers start to go home, I will no longer be a part of Her Majesty's personal army. I have my own forces to tend to."

Now things start to make sense. Leonie scratches her neck. "Wait — your f-forces? What do you — "

Hubert starts to smile again; she doesn't like it when he smiles.

Fortunately, everything comes to Leonie at once and she cuts the man off. " — you're going to kill Those Who Slither in the Dark."

Hubert nods. "Correction. _We_ are going to."

"Wh-what?" Leonie gasps. "Wait, so I'm not — you're not killing me?"

Hubert shakes his head and wags a finger at her. "No. Your passion for justice is admirable. In war, it's difficult to hold onto these things, but you've kept a promise to a dead man for five years, if I am to be understanding your words correctly. You despise the same people that both I _and_ Her Majesty do."

Leonie nods. This is kind of exciting. Though it isn't exactly the kind of mercenary work she was hoping for…

"Will we be… um… slithering in the dark ourselves to kill them?" Leonie blurts out, trying to take a guess at Hubert's preferred method of murdering.

Hubert scratches his chin. "Yes. Ha. I never thought of it like that. Yes, we shall slither."

Leonie bows her head, still thinking.

"You will march with the Black Eagle Strike Force," Hubert says. "As I do. But you will have no chances of rising in the ranks, you're a shadow recruit. Seen but unheard. Obedient to a fault. We live in darkness. We embark on missions our Emperor knows not of. Perhaps even disapproves of. We clean up so that she doesn't have to drift even deeper down than she already is. Can you do that, Leonie?"

Leonie thinks about that. "...well, yeah, I guess, um — what do I do from here?"

Hubert smiles again, and by now she's so used to his coy smirk that she is okay with it. "Are you good with a knife?"


	11. Spilled Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard meets with Acheron, Dimitri meets with Catherine.

Edelgard is exhausted.

After giving Hubert a stern talking to about kidnapping their friends in the middle of the night without Her Majesty's permission — a dressing down that Hubert smirks his way through much to Edelgard's chagrin — she returns to the dormitories where she may finally rest.

But upon reaching her door, she hears giggling and chuckling from within! It's not her birthday, is it? Edelgard loathes surprise parties. Ultimately she decides she will never guess what the context of this nuisance is, and storms on in.

Alas, it is Ferdinand and Byleth, likely the two worst individuals to be found chortling in her room. Ferdinand sits at her desk, spitting up waves of tea from his cup while he laughs along with Byleth, who has presumptuously draped herself across Edelgard's bed.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Edelgard shouts, throwing both hands to her hips.

Ferdinand and Byleth sneak a glance at her, and give themselves back over to laughter. Glancing down, Edelgard snaps her robe shut, bumping Byleth with her hip to make room on her bed. "I have had a long night indoctrinating the Golden Deer and I will not have you two mucking about!"

Ferdinand shakes his head. "Ah, Edelgard, Edelgard… you really should know better, then again, I am pleased that I know something that you do not."

Edelgard raises an eyebrow, and decides not to deal with Ferdinand and looks to Byleth. "Do you have any idea as to what he is talking about?"

Byleth stifles a giggle and nods excitedly. "You forgot about your meeting with Lord Acheron."

"Lord Acheron?" Edelgard blurts out. "Who is — oh dear. I should — "

Edelgard rises, but Byleth grabs her by the knee and drags her back down. "Don't worry, El, he's — "

Pause. She called her El!

Unpause. " — being entertained by Dorothea and Petra right now," Byleth finishes.

Ferdinand winks, "Though Dorothea does have much disdain for the man." He hitches his foot up onto the chair, leaning back dangerously. Edelgard dislikes such uncouth behavior, having advised Caspar many times to not do such things. But for Ferdinand to do it? Perhaps he will hurt his head, and that would help soothe his insane ego.

"I know that Lord Acheron is… snobbish," Edelgard says carefully. "But that is no reason to make fun. He is a valuable piece of our relationship with the Alliance."

"Oh, Edelgard," Ferdinand chuckles, nearly tumbling to the floor in the chair, but alas, he catches himself and brings both feet back to the floor. "You know why he's here, right?"

Edelgard shakes her head. She doesn't pay too much attention to the feelings of nobles… of that sort at least.

Byleth gently places a hand on Edelgard's shoulder. "He's scared stiff of what you'd look like as an enemy to him."

"Yes," Ferdinand echoes, jabbing a finger at the air.

Not wanting to discuss Byleth's comment, Edelgard turns on Ferdinand. "Are you two… drunk?"

"No!" Byleth blurts out too quickly.

"Professor," Ferdinand moans. "Ah, well, we've had our fun, how did the indoctrination go? You didn't — " He mimes pulling a bag over his head, and then, apparently off Edelgard's resulting expression, goes, "No! You didn't?"

"Uh, yes, we did," Edelgard admits. "Actually, this is as good of a time as any to inform you that Hilda, Lorenz, and Lysithea are being brought back to the Alliance. Hilda so that she may return home, and the other two so that they may sway the Alliance to our side. It'll be complicated getting them there, I was thinking maybe someone like Jeritza can handle it."

Ferdinand nods along. "I'll talk to him, I just hope he's not in one of his moods today… are you sure about this, Edelgard? Lysithea and Jeritza famously don't get along…"

Edelgard shakes her head. "No, they can suck it up. Erm, you are dismissed. I wish to speak with our Professor — "

"Byleth," Byleth corrects.

" — right."

Ferdinand takes his leave, drunkenly singing a song as he saunters down the hallway. It's shocking to Edelgard to see him handle something so recklessly. Surely in the presence of a noble, Ferdinand would respond in kind. But of course… Acheron is not noble. He is anything_ but_ noble.

"Your vision doesn't work with people like Acheron around," Byleth tells Edelgard. "He's a war profiteer, El, you know that."

Edelgard nods, discreetly allowing her hand to fall onto Byleth's. As a test! Nothing more. And when Byleth's hand closes around hers, Edelgard turns away, a little embarrassed.

"I suppose if I am to become radical…" Edelgard says, thinking of everything that has transpired lately, and how atypical of herself she has been. "...I will need to handle Acheron today."

Byleth raises an eyebrow curiously, and then punches her palm with the sort of energy that suggests a question mark.

Edelgard laughs, shaking her head, "No, no, nothing like that. But I… I will talk to him, and hope he understands. Will you come with me, Professor?"

Byleth gives her that look that says, "Seriously, call me Byleth," but grips Edelgard's hand tighter. "Always," she grins.

* * *

"Do I need to repeat myself? You cannot see Lady Rhea at this time!"

"Ah, I forgot that I am still a schoolboy. Whose castle are we in again? Pardon my rudeness, but get out of my way, Catherine."

Catherine frowns, almost for a second considering stepping aside, but she owes Lady Rhea far too much to ever step aside against Rhea's will, so Catherine stands her ground. There's a moment where Dimitri tensens, but quickly he finds his calm. He snorts and turns away, accepting defeat.

Once it is clear that they are on the same page, Catherine pats Dimitri on the shoulder. "Follow me."

…

Catherine has never been one to sit down and stay still, but she's found that it is infinitely helpful for the equally restless Dimitri, who has been more on edge than ever since the return of the Professor. She sits across him in the dining hall within the hallowed halls of his castle in Fhirdiad, having prepared him a cup of tea. Chamomile is rumored to be his favorite, and when he knocks back his wild mane of hair and shuts his eyes at the first sip, Catherine knows she's done at least something right.

"What happened at Rhodos?" she asks, leaning in, hands dangling between her knees.

Dimitri sneers to himself. "It would have worked had that… _man_ not interfered."

Catherine really wants to feel sorry for Dimitri, but she just can't find that shred of sympathy. "You used his daughter as a gambling chip, Dimitri. You know you shouldn't have done that. Rhea's furious with you."

Dimitri raises an eyebrow. "How does she know? I figured she just stayed holed up in that room, brooding all day…"

Catherine shakes her head; there's no time to address his sleight. "Seteth is _here_, Dimitri. That's why you're far away from _there_ and with me — " she rushes to her feet to match Dimitri's sudden rise. " — _don't_." She holds up a hand, her other hand already fishing for Thunderbrand.

Through gritted teeth, Dimitri hisses, "What does he want?"

"Sit," Catherine snaps.

Dimitri keeps his face perfectly smooth and uncaring as he lowers himself back into the wooden chair. "Why—"

"He's asking Rhea to end the war," Catherine answers. "From what I can tell at least."

Dimtri narrows his eyes. He really does look like he crawled straight out of Hell. "It could have ended that day had he not interfered."

Catherine doesn't really believe that, but doesn't see the point in arguing. She leans back. "Either way, Seteth is leaving Fhirdiad in one piece."

"He's a traitor!"

"He was also Rhea's right hand man," Catherine snips, furious that she even has to remind Dimitri of all the administrative work it took to keep Garreg Mach running. Largely because he has neglected any of that under his own rule. "People in Fódlan have seen and heard from him far more than Rhea. It would be a bad look… and we look bad enough."

Dimitri frowns, lowering his teacup, already having drained the thing. For a moment, she sees some of the man's boyish insecurities coming to his eyes. It makes her smile, she preferred the days when he was a gawky kid who had little control over his inhuman strength.

"You're referring to Sylvain, Mercedes, and Ingrid I'm assuming," Dimitri murmurs.

Catherine hesitates, because she really would prefer to not reopen that wound, but there's no other way. "Yes… and other things. A lot has happened since you departed."

Dimitri nods sullenly. "I'm sure… um… how is Rodrigue holding up?"

Catherine looks away. "He's… he said what he said about Glenn's death. He's proud, of course, but… restless."

Dimitri flinches at the mention of Glenn, biting down hard on his lip as if crossed with a particularly unpleasant thought. His eyes drift over Catherine's shoulder intently, staring down an apparation that isn't really there. She knows this behavior well enough to not acknowledge it, and waits until he turns back to full consciousness.

Dimtri frowns, "Sorry, I was… is Rodrigue in Fhirdidad? I'd like to see him."

Catherine crosses her arms. "He's riding to Arianrod to check on the new guard. He needs space."

"I'm sure," Dimitri utters with little compassion. Clearly, the thought of his old friends in Arianrod deeply upsets him. "Catherine, I must speak with Rhea. Seteth is surely finished with her by now, may we go?"

Catherine purses her lips, thinking. "No. We need to do something else first."

* * *

With so much of her time dedicated to wartime now, Edelgard has forgotten how droll these meetings with nobles is.

Lord Acheron, known as the Weathervane to his critics, was one of the first Alliance nobles to side with the Empire, though he admittedly watches over the smallest of territories and certainly with the least care. Allegedly, he hasn't been in his district in over a year.

While Edelgard discusses policy with him, he slouches back in his chair and twists his mustache between sips of tea. She wishes Hubert were here, just his presence in the corner of the room typically changes the moods to many of the corrupt. But instead she has Byleth who stares off into the distance, seemingly happy about… something. As if there _could_ be something to be so happy about.

"Lord Acheron," Edelgard says, finally addressing the man directly. "Do you understand a word I'm saying?"

Acheron's eyes flutter rapidly as he catches up , and he hurriedly props both elbows to the table. "No, forgive me Emperor, but I don't really see how this affects me. We already have our arrangement. I give you a militia, you give me Gloucester."

Edelgard resists the twitch in her left eye. "And that has changed, given Lorenz Hellman Gloucester's expedition to reason with his father. He disembarks from here, today."

The moment Lorenz' name comes off Edelgard's tongue, Acheron pales, his mustache comically drooping. "Ridiculous. That Lorenz lout is certainly going to — "

"Ah, yes, I forget, you tried to kill him five years ago," Edelgard shakes her head. "I wonder what you will do now that we are all on the same side."

Acheron grits his teeth, yet still manages a friendly, "Why we will find a way to work together, of course."

"Bullshit," Byleth mutters. Edelgard nearly gasps, hardly knowing Byleth actually was paying attention.

Acheron blinks. "What was that?"

Byleth shrugs, and it is difficult for Edelgard to not laugh. But she maintains a straight face. "Acheron, why do you walk this path with us?"

His face reddens now. "Well, clearly this war is moving to your favor, and I would prefer my territory to be in favor with the Empire…"

Byleth coughs into her fist. "Liar!"

Acheron blinks again, very nonplussed. "Your Majesty, may you please tell your cohort to stop acting like a fool around me? It's unbecoming."

Edelgard shakes her head. "Your territory has been spared a war, as has all of the Alliance. Knowing that, what motivates you to be here?"

Acheron hesitates. "I mean, obviously, I want to have a higher seat of power… I think I am entitled to as such."

"Entitled?" Edelgard raises an eyebrow. "Do you understand why we are waging this war? What if I explained to you that your seat of power would be put up to a public election after our victory?"

Acheron glowers back. "Surely my people would choose me, the man who kept them safe during this bloody war…"

"Would they even recognize you? You haven't visited your territory in over a year," Edelgard gloats.

Acheron pounds the table. "This is an outrage! Unacceptable! Who do you think you are to speak to me like this?!"

"Oh, I'm just the Emperor of Adrestia," Edelgard shrugs, propping her cheek up against her knuckle. "You know, the one that wants to give power back to the people."

Edelgard grins when she hears Byleth snickering in her ear. She has always struggled with telling jokes, so it's nice to know that her performance is improving. "The people on our side have made great sacrifices, and will make many more, Acheron. But I see that you haven't let go of a single thing since you came to me four years ago. Perhaps you should sacrifice something right now… or perhaps you should walk back to the Alliance in dire need of an audience with Count Gloucester…"

"I…" Acheron is utterly flummoxed, even moreso than Duke Aegir was when assigned to his house arrest. "You… no… this is unheard of! It's not fair!"

Edelgard cocks her head back. "You are right, it is unheard of, isn't it? As it also unfair for your people to be ruled by someone who couldn't care less for them. Please, remove yourself from my sight."

…

"And then Edelgard—uh, I mean, Her Majesty — "

"It's fine, Professor, you may call me Edelgard."

" — okay, El," Byleth grins, playfully nudging Edelgard on the shoulder when she blushes. "But Dorothea, El was amazing. She kicked Acheron out and… oh man."

Dorothea grins back, the three of them seated around a small table in the garden. "Thank the Goddess you did that, Edie, I can't stand that man. And I am still a little miffed at you for forgetting about the meet…"

Edelgard frowns. "I am sorry. But fortunately, we won't have to worry about such social niceties again, I think. At least for those we dislike. Dorothea, may I ask you a question?"

Dorothea shrugs, a little confused. "Shoot."

"How many of our allies are like Acheron?" Edelgard asks.

"Sleazy with a ghastly mustache?"

"You know what I mean."

"Hm," Dorothea leans back, gazing up at the rolling clouds. "Most of them, honestly. I think most nobles know not to be so transparent around you, but at the end of the day… there's a stark difference in class throughout all of Fódlan… especially Adrestia. I still feel like I'm living in a dream being so close with you two."

Byleth cocks her head to the side. "But I'm also of commonbirth."

Dorothea raises an eyebrow. "Bullshit, Byleth. We all know something's off about you, but don't worry about it, honestly… not to get off-topic. Does that make sense, Edie?"

Edelgard nods, fingers curling against her elbows. "I am worried. Allying ourselves with nobles has brought us far in this war… but if anything, it will get in the way from actually helping the people when this is all said and done."

A quiet lull falls between the three. They have all known this.

"Really, we should be allied with the people, I should be speaking at villages and cities," Edelgard continues. "I've just been worried about placing targets on their backs. The nobles can take it, but commoners can't… if things go poorly, I can see Rhea exterminating those that supported us."

Byleth takes Edelgard by the shoulder, and brings herself very close to the Emperor's face. "Well we'll just have to wipe the floor with that dragon lady."

Edelgard chuckles. "That's true…" Her eyes fall to Dorothea who looks far more serious than usual. "Is something the matter?"

"No," Dorothea says quickly, then hesitates. "Well, yes. Um… I think it would be a good idea for you to speak at a village. Like Remire. Maybe have a one-on-one with some of the town's leaders. I think it'd be a nice project for us while we wait for Jeritza to return with Hubert and Leonie. Uh, just a one-off, like a trial run."

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. "You've thought of this before?"

Dorothea nods many more times than necessary.

"Well, then it is done! Let's do it," Edelgard grins.

"Are you sure?" Dorothea asks. "I know it's a lot to ask, and would take a lot of time out of your day…"

"Nonsense!" Edelgard grins. "I wouldn't be half of who I am without the two of you. I trust you."

* * *

Dimitri has never been good in the room in regards to formalities, so the beginning minutes of the war council meeting are strained. Catherine notes that he struggles when conversing with Judith, the Hero of Daphnel, and Lord Holst, older brother to Hilda Goneril, a student from Catherine's simpler Academy days. Ultimately, Dimitri squeezes himself into a chair besides Gilbert, who really should be resting after the injuries he sustained from the surprise attack sprung by those Black Eagle cowards.

But there's little point in fighting anyone on anything nowadays, not when you're one of the few sane people left with the Church.

"Holst, please tell Dimitri and Gilbert what you have learned," Catherine says, standing besides the young man, staring out the window. Fhirdiad really is a wonderful city. Though it's never felt like home.

Holst frowns. Older than Hilda, he still has a babyface, which is odd given his extraordinary height and girth. "My sister has written to me. Some of the letter has certainly been tampered with…" he explains, sliding the parchment over to Dimitri who hungrily snatches it up. "...but she is being returned to the Alliance. Apparently, Emperor Edelgard has absorbed most of the Golden Deer class into her ranks."

Dimitri snorts, then looks to Holst with such disdain. "What about Marianne? I liked her."

Catherine doesn't need to look to know that Holst is shaking his head. "Only Hilda walked. Though it sounds like Lysithea von Ordelia and Lorenz Hellman Gloucester are also returning. I'm assuming it's as some diplomatic mission."

This is all so draining, and already they are up to speed, meaning Catherine needs to rejoin the meeting. She settles in besides Judith, staring far down the table at Dimitri who is slowly putting the pieces together.

"So that woman intends to take the Alliance," Dimtri says.

"It would seem so," Holst answers, clearly trying to avoid saying something.

"We can't allow that!" Dimitri bellows as if in the middle of an argument, "If we lose the Alliance, we will be outnumbered! What we should do is surprise their caravan just like those bastards did to Gilbert and — "

Gilbert snaps out of his solitude and looks up at Dimitri, pleading, "Your Majesty — "

"Hilda has requested that we not strike," Holst says in a level tone that cuts through Dimitri's gravelly remarks. "Or try to figure what route they are taking. Besides, assassinating Ordelia and Gloucester — if unearthed as our doing — would destroy us."

Catherine nods. "Lady Rhea wouldn't allow it."

Dimtri glowers at her. "I don't see Lady Rhea in this room with us. What gives her the right to strategize all of these efforts?"

This is what she's been bracing herself for through the past five years…

"I took Rhea in because Faerghus owes much to the Church," Dimitri says, standing tall. "But she has slowed us down to a crawl. I could have killed _that woman_ so long ago… and now Edelgard is about to orchestrate a Civil War in the Alliance, as if things weren't bad enough!"

Catherine sighs, trying to remember the lines she rehearsed to herself, but it's Judith's voice that sounds off first. "I am concerned about that too. Edelgard isn't flipping votes, she's just making her allies fight harder. It's bad strategy. Really, she should just bring her forces here and finish things. We all know they'd win by this point… unless of course, we implement _that_ strategy."

Ah, yes, the much contested strategy of secretly moving around the rim of Fódlan and taking Enbarr while Edelgard still fights from Garreg Mach.

No one says anything for some time; even Dimitri doesn't like the idea of hitting the Empire head-on by storming Enbarr. He has stated on multiple occasions that this is a war for the nobility and that the people must be left out at all costs. At least that much is left within this shell of his former self.

Judith eyes everyone in the room with curiosity. "It would work," she says, trusting everyone is in the same place as her. "It's like Claude said, Edelgard taking Garreg Mach was a double-edged sword, because if she loses Adrestia…"

Holst sighs. "She'll be surrounded with no other place to go, yes. But Claude made it very clear everytime we met that the Alliance has to stay out of this, and that this Enbarr strategy was purely theoretical."

Judith frowns. She looks so much older than when Catherine saw her last. "Claude also said that Edelgard would never attack the Alliance like she ended up doing — and he died for that. We need to move."

Holst nods. "I agree with that — but I am not violating my sister's wishes… and if any of you…" He turns to Dimitri specifically. "...hunt that caravan down, I will tear you apart limb from limb."

Dimitri narrows his eyes once again, and lowers himself back to the head of the table. "I just lost two of my best friends."

Holst cocks his head back. "Odd words from the man who sent three of his other best friends away. You're unstable."

Gilbert rises on Dimitri's behalf. "You will bite your tongue!"

"Gilbert!" Catherine barks, really hoping the man is still loyal the Church first. Thankfully, he stifles at her call and falls back. "We can't divide ourselves. We need to rebuild, if anything. The Knights of Seiros might as well be dead."

Dimitri's face twists in its displeasure at the idea of staying still when he would gladly march to Garreg Mach alone.

"Alois is still missing in action, Seteth is gone, Cyril isn't willing to leave Lady Rhea's side, and — " Catherine stops herself, burying her face into her hand. She can't bare to say the name, but it can't be ignored. She looks back up, holding back powerful emotions none of these people could possibly understand. " — Shamir turned to the Empire. Many of our knights have been killed in poorly strategized attempts at taking back the monastery, and we lost even more at Rhodos."

Judith sighs, stretching her arms across the table, twitching her fingers. "We don't have time to rebuild, Catherine. We need to stop Ordelia and Gloucester from upsetting the Alliance, or a few moons from now, Emperor Edelgard and two armies worth will be waiting just outside the door here. And we're going to die defending the woman who hasn't left her room in over a year."

Of all the things said that day, that one stings the most. Catherine misses Rhea a lot. Though they still speak, they never discuss anything but the war, and it's always about that horrible Professor who allowed Emperor Edelgard to get away with such heinous crimes. Who changed history by walking down a path that made no sense.

Goddess, why? Why did Byleth choose Edelgard? She was a traitor, she hurt so many… yet Byleth stood by her side. At first, Catherine had hope. Maybe Byleth had decided to be a triple agent at the last moment — but no. She's killed Catherine's friends, and stole her best friend away. She will pay dearly for that.

Catherine shakes her head, and looks Dimitri in the eye. "No, you're wrong, Judith. We need to let go of the Alliance, I'm sorry. Holst is right, we need to let Ordelia and Gloucester do as they please. If we meddle, the neutrality will fade even faster. And Dimitri… you… you need to go back to the Sealed Forest."

Dimitri furrows his brow and starts to speak when something distracts him. He looks off to the left with bewildered eyes, and Catherine looks away. It hurts too much to see her boy succumb to these phantasmal tormentors of his. She doesn't know how to save him.

Eventually, Dimitri returns back to the table and gazes at Catherine with haunted eyes. "Do you really think that's wise? I chose poorly in allying with him… the way I see it, Thales killed Dedue by giving him that cursed Crest Stone."

Catherine shrugs. "What other choice do we have?"

"_There's many choices we can make, Catherine, but you do not have to concern yourself with that,_" a new voice says softly. It takes a moment for Catherine to recognize it. High and cold, yet very restrained.

Green hair is strewn across the woman's pale face, knotted and snapped into split ends. A white dress, faded into a pale yellow, is marred by a streak of fresh blood. When Lady Rhea rounds the table, the hair falls past her face and reveals the dark crimson splotch along her cheek. But Rhea isn't injured at all, and Catherine already knows who's blood that is. Though Catherine has sworn her life to this woman, for a moment she considers killing her. But she can't.

Rhea stares daggers at Judith, smiling once the woman meets that gaze. "Claude always did possess quite the mind. We take Enbarr."

Dimitri rises, nearly knocking his chair to the floor. "No."

Rhea raises a thin eyebrow. "No?"

"Edelgard's people need to be left out of this."

Yes, Dimitri, yes! Fight back. For once, act like the King you've been crowned as.

Rhea shakes her head, "Edelgard's people have allied themselves against the Church, and I think as you were instructed in school, Dimitri, there is a price to pay for that."

Like the civilians that rose up under Lonato's rebellion… the ones Catherine cut down without a second thought.

Rhea continues, "Though in my absence, I suppose I assumed you had moved on from wanting Edelgard dead to instead protecting your people. Your people that will be conquered by Edelgard if you let her."

The scowl on Dimitri's face is particularly cutting. "If we take Enbarr… the Alliance would join us out of fear, and we'd have unified Fódlan… _but that should not be the intention of our side of the war._ We need to work with these nations, not destroy them… besides, Claude's strategy is impractical. It's impossible for you to secretly make it to Enbarr without notice."

At this, Rhea smiles. "Not if we go through Shambala."

Finally, Dimitri sits back in his seat, utterly disconnected from the rest of the table, even Gilbert, who stares at Rhea with great interest.

"Catherine," Rhea says suddenly, finally addressing the woman in the room who is closest to her. Though her gaze is as removed as Dimitri's. "You will lead Judith and Lord Holst to Thales where we may begin negotiations."

Ah. Of course, that's all she's good for… Catherine nods.

"Yes, Lady Rhea."


	12. Burning Cinders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard and her Eagles visit Remire while Jeritza leads the Alliance crew to Gloucester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote up a rough outline finally and I am estimating this will be about 21 chapters, with the possibility of more since a lot of this changes as I write it.
> 
> I haven't looked at my stats in a while, and just realized how popular this is, so thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> I'm really proud of this chapter, there's one part with Edelgard later in that I love, and the final scene IMO is really cool and emotional haha.
> 
> So with that, please enjoy.

Remire is dead.

Five years ago, Edelgard camped here with Claude and Dimitri, and she remembers a thriving village with its own stirring economy. That is not what she sees today. What she sees does not even resemble what remained after the virus. The trees are gone, charred down to jagged stumps and sometimes nothingness. The grass that has not been turned to dirt is dead, waiting to be ripped from the earth.

The old entrance archway has been torn down, and sensibly so for the first few blocks of Remire have been annihilated.

Edelgard's heart pounds in her chest, and she looks to Byleth wordlessly, hoping her teacher may allow her to cut off this expedition, to never look at these… burial grounds. But Edelgard is responsible for Remire, and soon, when she wins the war, she will be responsible for so many more villages like this. Villages that she herself has destroyed.

It is when she feels like a general and not an emperor. But the reason for her visitation is to be Emperor. Or maybe even just human.

"Can we stop?" Edelgard asks her team. She only brought three of her Eagles: Byleth, Dorothea, and Petra. She figured they would be the best at making this visit successful.

Byleth nods, and finally tears her eyes off the dirt road to take in her surroundings. "I woke up here, you know."

Edelgard looks over. Byleth purposely doesn't look her in the eye. "One of the villagers found me and tried to stop me from going to Garreg Mach; he was scared of us. Edelgard, what happened here?"

Edelgard nods. "The village slowly died out, I guess. I'm not sure. Thales forbade me from coming here to cure the people, if that's even possible. But to me, it seems like far more than the virus has happened. We should continue."

When the Strike Force does arrive at the actual fragment of Remire that is still a community, Edelgard is somewhat thankful for the relatively small group that greets her. None of the people are familiar to her, and she is positive that if it weren't for her Imperial gown and famous white hair, none of the commoners would even recognize her as the Emperor. Furthermore, several of the village people tower over her. Pair all of this with… everything… it is important that Edelgard make firm eye contact to avoid trailing away to the massive graveyard beyond one of the taverns. Cracked stones embedded in dead earth.

Edelgard slowly works her way through the crowd, shaking hands and trying hard to remember names, while Byleth, Petra, and Dorothea begin the communications and organizing of this event. It was only a day ago when Dorothea had suggested this so it is likely that Edelgard is ill prepared. But she didn't want to wait any longer because she knew this was true.

Fortunately for her, Byleth chooses Edelgard's first conversation by bringing an older man with bushy eyebrows forward. "This is Hugo," Byleth says, "He gave my father and I lodging the night I met you, he's very sweet, and now the village leader. He would like to speak with you privately to start things off."

…

"So what do you do as the village leader?" Edelgard asks casually while she seats herself in this man, Hugo's, inn. Hugo hobbles past her on his cane to grab a pitcher of water, so Edelgard rushes to her feet to take it for him. But his grip is good, even with just one hand.

"We didn't always have a leader," Hugo muses. "Didn't need one. But then… well, you were there that night. I remember seeing you."

Edelgard nods. She does not remember him, but there were far too many faces that night. She is still amazed that Byleth was able to direct her and their Eagles into minimizing the civilian deaths. There were villagers farther back in the brush behind Solon, and still, Byleth somehow knew to send Bernadetta on her pegasus to save them.

"I'm sorry we waited as long as we did to save you. Had the Church properly informed us of what was happening, we wouldn't have hesitated to — "

Hugo's thin lips frown past his mustache, while he finds himself a seat, finally setting the pitcher down. Edelgard makes sure to pour him a glass first. "You waited a long time to come here, too."

That stings, but she knows he is right. "I am sorry. I have… recently decided that many of the allies I have made in these five years share no interests with me in helping and supporting people like you. I… am your humble servant."

Hugo raises an eyebrow humorously, and erupts into quiet laughter that eventually gives over to coughing. "Do you know how old I am?"

Edelgard blinks. Surely, this is a trick question. "Um…"

"Forty."

"...forty?!"

Hugo nods. "This is how the Remire virus affected me; I'm lucky to have only been inflicted this much, though obviously I won't live as long as I hoped… I may not even see the end of this war."

Oh, how Edelgard wishes she could tell this man the truth. How she herself is also going to die far earlier than is fair. But no one can know that. Even telling the Professor was a mistake. Even Hubert. Now Byleth knows how weak she truly is.

"A lot of people said you were insane when you claimed our Goddess to be a false one," Hugo explains. "But I believed you. If what the Church says is true… and if we really were punished by the Goddess, then they must be stopped at all costs."

Again, Edelgard wishes she could tell him the truth. How much of her leadership has been contingent on her administration's knack for keeping things secret?

"What can I do to support your people?" Edelgard asks, hoping that the man will move on.

Hugo nods thoughtfully. "Given the many attacks mounted on Garreg Mach under the past few moons… the Church of Seiros has marched through here, and they have not been kind. There was one night a few moons back when Thunder Catherine raized our fields with great flames when we tried to turn them away. They slaughtered some of us who they deemed heretics. It is now affecting us today as we do not have enough food to live… and return to the population we used to have."

Edelgard's fist clenches at her side, draining itself of color. She remembers this night, it was earlier into Byleth's return, when Seteth mounted a strike that went poorly. Hoping to cease all conflict, Edelgard ordered her men to chase the Knights of Seiros down and that too… went poorly. Many good soldiers died that night, and to take in all the damages was unfeasible given how smart about their escape the Church was.

Edelgard is thankful to at least know that Seteth and Flayn were not involved in this; they warped away when Byleth spared them. Though she still knows the culprits: Gilbert and Catherine. The people she should have focused on killing first, not Dimitri and Claude. But she was wrong about so much then.

"We can send food your way," Edelgard says. "Garreg Mach has excess resources, we just have to get it through the mountains… consistently."

Edelgard pauses to think that over. Bernadetta would likely adore such a task, but then again, her pegasus was slain at Rhodos and it is possible that the girl may never fly again… but surely, there is a way.

"We also need protection," Hugo says. "I never answered your question about being a Village Leader. My job is to make sure we all have something to do, that there is some higher purpose to live in this Hell."

This gets Edelgard's attention quickly. These people are grieving for an ever widening wound.

"Sometimes that means sending some of our mercenaries out to employers… this old man has lost us far too many good men."

Edelgard frowns, remembering the two sellswords who harassed her at a pub several moons back. "They aren't returning home?"

"Very few," Hugo corrects. "I thought I was wise in sending some to get rid of the bandits killing us slowly. But I was wrong, and now no one wishes to stop them, knowing what happened to the men before…"

Edelgard understands this. "Trust me, I know how that feels. I have sent many to their deaths too, though I can't possibly feel the same depths of despair as you… I can try my best to help. So you need food and protection. Both are easily done."

Hugo smiles. "This is good. I spoke with the local Lord recently and he scoffed at me."

"Then he shall be unseated from power."

Hugo's eyes unbury themselves from his eyebrows. "Now, now, maybe that's too extreme."

Edelgard shakes her head. "Anyone who will ignore the people can no longer sit high. If I could, I'd unseat myself of the past five years knowing the blind eye I turned to Remire. I will not make the same mistake, rest assured."

Hugo smiles. "Well, well… I am at a loss, Your Majesty."

Finally, Edelgard begins to feel comfortable again. "Please, Hugo. Ask me to do more."

* * *

Byleth draws in a deep sigh, body flat against one of the taverns. She stands besides Petra. Off in the distance, Dorothea works with some of the locals to arrange a speaking order for the rest of the visit. Given the small population, it is… doable… for Edelgard to speak with everyone.

"Petra, I'm worried," Byleth says.

Petra turns her head, staying very quiet. She's been like that lately.

"I think what we're doing here is good," Byleth explains. "But… we might lose a lot of valuable support from nobles if we focus all of our efforts on these sorts of missions. We might lose the war. I don't think we can have both."

Petra raises an eyebrow. "Isn't this our only visiting?"

Byleth shakes her head. "I know Edelgard… um, well enough, I'd like to think—" In a small voice, she adds on, "—hope—" and sighs again. "—but she will want to keep doing this. You know how she is when she gets excited about something, she always wants it to be a thing…"

"Is that bad?" Petra asks, nudging her head towards Dorothea who truthfully, looks to be having the time of her life. Petra smiles and holds her gaze at Dorothea for… a little too long. Like the length of time Byleth might look at Edelgard.

"You should ask her out, already," Byleth smirks.

"Huh?" Petra frowns. "I already did."

Byleth blinks. "What?"

Petra nods. "We've been… um…" She connects her two index fingers. "...together."

"Oh, wow," Byleth looks away. "I'm out of the loop, huh?" She turns back to Petra and quickly adds, "It means disconnected from what's going on."

Petra nods. "I don't want to go back to war."

"...oh?"

Petra takes Byleth by the shoulder and pulls them away into a quieter area. "You have only been here for a few moons, but I've been doing the fighting for five years… and… Faerghus and the Alliance and Adrestia are of the same."

Byleth takes a moment to process that.

Faerghus has been the most visibly bad, but she remembers the time she supported Ignatz and Raphael in the Alliance, back when nobles were setting monsters loose on merchants to generate profit, and no one batted an eye at it. Especially Byleth. She got paid by a lot of similarly motivated nobles back when she was the Ashen Demon. Culturally each territory is radically different from the other, but they all rot from the same systemic problems.

"The Alliance is the only one that is trying to be peaceful, that, um, tries to make it work," Petra says.

This is starting to sound like treason, but Byleth understands. Claude died keeping the Alliance neutral; that was his everything. To have kept the most divided country from stepping into the war like everyone else… is a testament to the man he was. "Did you… um… consider…?"

Petra nods. "I am sorry. It was right when you came… thankfully, so I… stayed. But Edelgard is doing good things coming here, not even Claude would, I think."

Byleth looks over to the inn and hopes that things are actually going well in there, else this whole conversation might be pointless.

"Edelgard needs to be doing this," Petra says. "Or I don't think there is a war worth fighting."

This got very heavy really quickly. But Byleth understands. Even upon her return, she had doubt, and though she doesn't like being at Remire in particular, she knows that it's good for Edelgard. The Emperor has had these ideas for so long without much thought of execution…

… never been to a village like this before, never even considered a public education plan according to Ferdinand …

Byleth doesn't blame her. Edelgard had so much riding on her Flame Emperor gambit that it must have been impossible to plan anything but the start of the war, and then the rest has just been survival. But now, in this brief lapse of peacetime… they need to do everything in their power to make sure that the people know…

...that this is for all for them. And hopefully, that can one day mean something beyond desolation.

* * *

A mass of children awaits Edelgard when she exits the inn, and they all start chattering at once, making it very difficult to communicate effectively. Deciding it might be best to kneel down to be more level with the children, Edelgard's ears prick up when Hugo passes behind her. "Keep in mind, Your Majesty, that many of these children call me "Uncle" because of what happened at Remire…"

Edelgard flinches, but she supposes she should have assumed that many parents died at Remire, that even she had killed some of these poor children's parents. It became easy to forget after a while that those… creatures were once human. She's glad, at least, that she drew away from the Demonic Beasts that Thales has relied on for so long, for they have the same origin.

"Emperor Edelgard," one boy says sheepishly.

A girl elbows him in the gut. "It's _Your Majesty,_" she hisses.

"Hey!" Edelgard exclaims. "Be nice to him!"

For whatever reason, this sets all the children giggling. As always, Edelgard is only good at making people laugh when she is absolutely not trying to. But today she'll take it. "You can call me Edelgard."

"Whoooooa," the boy says. "Why?"

"I — erm, like my name a lot, that's why," Edelgard says. "Tell me, how can I help you?"

Edelgard has never been good with children; she wonders if any of them notice her recoil in fear from their presence. But she grew up around so many of them, so many children that never got to become anything more… ten siblings, she has to remind herself. I'm not an only child, she says in those pleasant moments where it feels like nothing bad has ever happened to her. She has to remember the truth.

Despite being one of the youngest in her family, she became the de facto mother figure when her older siblings had died. This is possibly what made her the last one to be experimented on; she was the only one willing to work with Thales to keep her brothers and sisters calm and obedient. She just wanted them to live.

There was a baby in the family, Edelgard remembers. Their name… is… not something she can remember. So much of it is a blur now, a blur that strikes at all of her nerves. It's like a scream. She'll never forget the emotions or the pain… but the specifics are just white hot pain. But Edelgard knows there was a baby. In her weaker moments, she wants to ask Thales if she is correct, but she has to trust herself that she is.

She would hold the baby in her lap all day, clutching them close to her chest while they wailed on and on. At night, she would still hold the baby close, curling her body around them so that they could be safe from the rats. Even then, she wasn't good enough and the rats would slip between her arms and…

She woke up one morning and the baby was dead. Panicking, Edelgard immediately brought the baby to one of the guards… now she recognizes them to be Kronya. She tried to tell the Agarthans that one of the subjects died before experimentation and she was so sorry… and they beat her for it. It had been so painful that she thought the beating was the experiment.

It wasn't.

When she returned to her cell, one of her brothers tried to console her, so they took him away and killed him that night. Anyone that got close to Edelgard was killed, or experimented on early, depending on Thales' mood.

She didn't get to be a mother to any of her siblings after that.

"Wh-why are you crying? Are we making you sad?"

Edelgard snaps back to attention, and runs her glove underneath her eye and sure enough, catches tears. "I…" she freezes. "...used to have many brothers and sisters your age, I was just… thinking about them."

Years ago, voicing this out loud would get her killed. No one can know the secret of the Hresvelgs. It would be a controversy on the scale of Duscurr. People need to think that she's the only one.

The boy puts his hands on his hips. "Well, pay attention to us!"

The other kids laugh at his huffiness, and even Edelgard manages to find some humor in it. "Alright, alright, I'll listen… I am sorry. Um, this will sound strange, but… could I hold one of you? For just a bit?"

* * *

Traveling from Garreg Mach to the Alliance with her friends would have been _so_ fun… if Hubert hadn't selected Jeritza as their guide. Guy is awkward enough to be with, but around here it's unnerving how quiet he is. How his mere presence drains the life of any possible conversation with anyone. Like Lorenz and Hilda are great for conversation, but the mere sight of Jeritza besides them absolutely ruins it.

Lysithea rides on Lorenz's steed, while Hilda holds onto the horse's reigns. Ahead of them, Jeritza and his horse march alone. Somewhere in the trees on their left and right — they march through a clearing in a forest — is Hubert and Leonie.

It's dark and after hours of tension, Lysithea just can't take it anymore. "Will you start talking about it, or do I have to bring it up?"

There's a noticeable shudder in Jeritza's shoulders. Ew city.

"What is she talking about?" Hilda whispers behind her.

"It wouldn't be proper to say out loud," Lorenz whimpers. "But there was an_ incident_."

"Several incidents," Jeritza adds on.

Lorenz screams so loud out of fear that Lysithea has to bop him upside the head. "Lorenz! Chill! This is supposed to be a sneaky, stealth mission. Okay, but Jeritza, we need to talk about this!"

"No, we don't."

Somehow, his regular voice is even more obnoxious without the ugly distortion from that dumb maks of his. Man, she hates this guy. But he's perfect for stealth and undeniably powerful (not as powerful as Lysithea though, that goes without saying. Want proof? Just look at the _incident._)

Jeritza shakes his head, and that really ticks Lysithea off, so she leans past Lorenz and bows her stomach over the head of the horse so that she can grab onto Jeritza's saddle, but then…

Fire.

The trees to their left ignite as quickly as paper, towers of embers blazing up the pine trees. Quickly, the air becomes thick with smoke. Lysithea's heart jumps into her throat. "Hubert! Leonie!"

But there's no reply. Then out of the fire steps Thunder Catherine, Lady Rhea's right hand woman… who also happens to share a Crest with Lysithea. They bonded over that back at Garreg Mach, and even when the war was at the beginning. Because they were once allies. Now… Lysithea hasn't quite adjusted to the idea that some people she liked can't be her friends anymore.

"Von Ordelia, Gloucester, you two are coming with me."

Oh… _Von Ordeli_a, not Lysithea. Apparently Catherine got used to that faster.

Jeritza shakes his head and in a very unbothered way, slides off his horse and lazily prepares his weaponry. Catherine narrows her eyes in the distance.

"Hilda, you can come with us, we know you're not with them," Catherine waves a hand over, eyeing the sidelines.

Hilda doesn't move, which makes Lysithea happy at least. She really doesn't want her to go. She belongs with the Eagles now. But then Lysithea realizes why Hilda is actually standing still — her brother is walking out into the open from the other forest. She must be in shock. And Holst is followed by Judith Daphnel, who Lysithea hasn't seen since… that time they rescued her at Ailell.

"Holst… why are you…" Hilda's lips tremble. "I told you not to…"

Holst nods, awkwardly crooking his hand behind his neck. "Sorry, Hilly. I have to. These people killed Claude, killed Nader, killed so many. Did you really think I'd let them get away with it?" The venom in his voice seems sort of put-on, but maybe it's just because this whole situation is surreal.

"Judith!" Lorenz calls out, dismounting and scrambling closer. "Don't do this — Claude would have never approved of such tactics."

Judith frowns and spins her rapier in the air. "Aren't you the racist piece of garbage who called my brother an _imposter_?"

Lorenz bites his lip and steps back. At least he knew to give up on that route quickly.

Lysithea looks over to Hilda fast. With a lot of urgency in her whisper, she says, "We're going to have to fight them. I know this is fast, but please don't go to their side. We love you, Hilda." She needs her to know this.

Hilda looks back, eyes wide like she's seen a ghost. She turns back to the Church of Seiros trio slowly advancing towards them, their bodies dark under the intense light of the fire.

"No, you don't need to fight them," Jeritza says suddenly, holding his scythe high and letting it swing like a pendulum for a moment. He drops it and holds it upright, advancing towards Catherine first. "I'll take care of it."

"What?! Are you crazy?" Lorenz sputters. "That's three of Fodlan's greatest warriors, you can't just — "

Jeritza looks back with a vacant expression far scarier than that dumb mask he used to wear all the time. "I'm very good at fighting."

Holst runs and slides through the mud, landing between Catherine and Jeritza. Quickly, he draws a double-bladed ax from his back, cape flying into the air. "You monsters tried to abduct my sister! My _sister_! I'll make you pay!"

Jeritza laughs and shifts to a combat stance. "Good luck."

Holst screams bloody murder and charges towards the field, ax raised high. Jeritza stays still, waiting, and Hilda lunges forward. Lysithea tries to hold her back but it's no use, her noodly arms have nothing on Hilda's taut muscle, and the girl breaks right through. "STOP!" she screams.

Holst is two paces from Jeritza now. Jeritza has yet to move.

Lysithea braces herself…

...and Holst twists around and lobs his ax through the air. It flies far and strikes Thunderbrand head-on, knocking Catherine flat on her back. Holst fishes into his hilt, but before Lysithea can see anything else, an inky black slinks into the arena and consumes everything in darkness. Then the black smog surges towards them, like some kind of horribly large beast.

"Lorenz!" Lysithea yelps.

"Right!" Lorenz shouts in a panic, wincing, and then prepping a spell.

"Wait!" Hilda shouts, brushing past him and sprinting straight into the inky blot.

"Hilda!" the scream catches in Lorenz's throat.

The dark gets very close now, consuming Hilda like she were nothing.

"LORENZ!" Lysithea yelps.

"Right," he sputters, and casts a mighty Ragnarok spell into the grass at their feet, igniting a wall of flame shielding them from the rush of the dark. "What is that?!" Lorenz shrieks.

"It's a highly advanced Silence spell," Hubert drawls, limping towards them quickly, singed and burnt but still somehow alive. "We need to go."

Lysithea shakes her head. "What about Leonie?"

Hubert hesitates. "Other side of the forest, she's fine. Jeritza will hold his own, come on," he grabs the reign to Lorenz's horse. "You two _need_ to go to the Alliance."

Lysithea grimaces. There's no use arguing with Hubert. So she does something stupid. Without thinking, she yanks Lorenz by the arm and swings him into his horse. Before Hubert understands what's happening, Lysithea raises a leg and kicks him in the stomach, which due to the burnt to a crisp thing, he crumples. Hubert can't be holding the horse for this to work.

Lysithea pats a hand onto the rump of the horse and looks Lorenz dead in the eye. "Go to Gloucester."

"Lysithea, wait — "

And she Warps them away. Then braces herself for Hubert's resulting shriek.

But instead Hubert just drawls. "Ah, that makes sense. Well done. You warped him east?"

Lysithea nods, and in the silence notices Hubert's heavy panting. "Shit, Hubert. Are you okay? You smell like charcoal."

Hubert brushes that off. "I always smell like charcoal."

"You know what I mean."

He narrows his eyes back, and turns towards the flame well. "I'm assuming you want to go after Hilda, so go get it over with. I'm too weak to stop you."

Lysithea nods, but she almost considers staying with him. He's really not holding up okay, whatever Catherine did to those trees was not good… and Hubert's always been bad with defensive magic. But she knows Hilda needs her soon.

So she leaps through the fire.

…

…

…

It's like being in a different realm. There is no sound here, nor any visual… though in the distance, she sees a glowing orange light swinging into a violet light. The light hangs in the air for a precious moment, like the tail of a shooting star. But given the context, this is surely Thunderbrand at war with the Scythe of Sariel… the streaks of light are small but if she doesn't move fast, she might have a problem.

Lyisthea actually tells herself this out loud but no sound comes from her throat.

Somewhere in this dark are Hilda, Holst, and Judith… she needs to save Hilda, and maybe Holst. Definitely not going near that horse though if Catherine is still swinging by the time Lysithea gets over there… but as fast as she moves, she doesn't find anything.

There's only one way to do this efficiently. Lysithea bites her lip and summons a basic Nosferatu spell. She holds it in her hands and the light spreads wide, immediately revealing Judith with her back to Lysithea. Lysithea stumbles to summon a secondary spell, but by then Judith has seen her. Her thin face twists in its rage, though whatever obscenities she barks at Lysithea fall on death ears.

For five years, Lysithea risked her life under the command of this woman, and though she could easily kill Judith right here and now, she hesitates. Judith closes the gap and goes for a stab, but tumbles off to the side as a blinding pink blurs Lysithea's vision. At first, she thinks it's Hilda but then promptly realizes it's Holst.

Holst limps towards the fallen Judith, blood dripping from his mouth, gauntlet held firmly over his stomach. His eyes are manic, but within seconds he will be on top of Judith who will surely kill him.

So Lysithea takes the risk and sends an Agnea's Arrow through the dark. The white streak blasts everything around it into the bright and undefinable, and as it surges between Judith and Holst, the two brace themselves. As the arrow leaves, so does the light, but not before Hilda emerges from the dark and throws Holst over her shoulder. She takes Lysithea's hand and they run through the inky black.

The first thing Lysithea hears when she steps through the flame is Holst's rattling breaths. Letting all sound drift away, she kneels before him and sets to work on healing any wounds on him that she can. She turns to Hilda. "I can Warp him to Lorenz. Is that okay?"

Holst gasps for air and grabs Lysithea's hand. "No, no, stop. This is my fault…"

Hilda grabs Holst firmly. "No, it's mine, I shouldn't have — "

"If it's anyone's fault, it's mine," Hubert sighs. "Your letter said nothing about your location." He turns to Holst, falling down to his knees. "You must have been looking for a long time."

Lysithea shakes her head and dives back into the healing, but the second she really focuses in on it, she sees the problem: he's been stabbed clean through the gut; no one can heal that. Her knuckles tighten. "I've spent my whole life studying and practicing to be the best Mage I can as fast as possible… and I can't…"

Holst falls into Hilda's arms, slipping back into unconsciousness.

"Hilda, I'm sorry," Lysithea says, but she knows Hilda can't hear her.

Hubert gently taps Lysithea's shoulder. "Come on, we need to make a plan. We still have to handle Catherine and Judith…"

"No you don't."

The fire twists and Jeritza passes through, seemingly unscathed. With that, the integrity of Lorenz's Ragnarok spell goes away and the wall tumbles back into nothingness. With the removal of Hubert's Silence spell, they can see the cleared field and two dots retreating in the distance.

Hubert looks up. "What did you — "

"I told you," Jeritza drawls. "I'm very good at fighting… wait, where — where is the boy I said that to earlier? I wanted him to…" He pauses, eyes falling on Hilda clutching her brother's corpse, the still head on her shoulders. "...are they related?"

"He's her brother," Lysithea answers.

Jeritza nods, eyes hung onto the image. He doesn't turn away and thankfully, Hilda doesn't notice.

Hubert pats Lysithea on the shoulder again. "Jeritza is Mercedes' brother, he thinks about her a lot, come on, regroup with me."

"Right," Lysithea says absently.

Hubert stumbles as they walk off, and Lysithea has to slip under him to support him. "I feel like I'm helping an old man cross the road, are you seriously okay?"

"No," Hubert admits. "You have one more Warp in you, right? Can you Warp yourself?"

"No," Lysithea frowns. Another stupid worthless thing about her. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Hubert sighs, letting himself fall back to the ground again. "I never much liked that spell. I much prefer Rescue, I'd rather bring my subordinates back to me than anything else."

Lysithea rolls her eyes. "You're such a mother hen."

Hubert actually grins at that one. "Which reminds me… _Leonie!_ Are you safe?"

"Yeah, in a second," Leonie's voice shouts from the distance. "Hold on…"

The bushes rustle and after a tense few seconds, she slips out and at first Lysithea is happy to see Leonie in one piece — but then unhappy at seeing who she has brought with her.

Seteth, in a mere peasant shirt, with skin paler than anything she's ever seen, flops over Leonie's back as she carries him ahead.

"He's injured," Leonie explains. "I think they wanted to use him as a warning, but we scared those jerks off before it came to that."

She settles Seteth down, and Lysithea's eyes are quickly drawn to his horrible wound: a claw mark. Three talons at some point must have dug through his chest. But Lysithea doesn't know anyone who can do that except Lady Rhea… or — no, it couldn't be. It must have just been a Demonic Beast, that has to be it.

"Careful," Seteth grunts when Hubert takes hold of him. "I've been dying the past few days, the clerics haven't let me pass on. Please, just hear me. This war — "

"Shut up," Hubert says.

"Hubert!" Lysithea shrieks, looking back to the wounds on Seteth. Unlike Holst, this is healable, but… she's drained herself so much just trying to keep Holst alive that…

"Hubert," Seteth looks Hubert dead in the eyes, palm raising and touching the boy's cheek. "Rhea… did this… to me… I asked her to stop this war… stop the violence… she won't… please. Tell… Edelgard…"

"No," Hubert says in the same tone, planting a hand against the bloody talon strikes.

This is bizarre, she's never seen Hubert act like this. It's like he's trying not to cry.

The corner of Seteth's mouth twitches. "I feel you trying to heal me… please… give up on me…"

Hubert winces and light explodes from his hand, filling the gaps in Seteth's chest. "For years I have been riddled with self-doubt. About myself, about… about if I'm good. If I'm worth keeping alive. I have killed so many, and I know it has always been with purpose. Her Majesty has given me that."

Lysithea draws back. Maybe she should be somewhere else…

"At Rhodos," Hubert regains his composure. "You could have killed me. But you didn't. _You didn't give up on me,_ so I'm not giving up on you either. Careful, this will hurt."

Seteth screams, and falls flat to the ground, unconscious.

Lysithea opens her mouth with a very important question, but Hubert holds a finger in protest and leans away to vomit into the grass. He turns back. "That's temporary, like what those clerics did to him. Warp him to Lorenz immediately."

Lysithea does so without question. Then turns back to Hubert.

But Jeritza starts talking past their shoulders. "Tell me what I can do to help keep Flayn's older brother live."

Hubert, white-faced, pauses, possibly to correct Jeritza, which in this context, might be a bad idea, so Lysithea steps forward. "Ride me to Ordelia, we can send help to Gloucester. He's going to need a team to keep him alive, and I know the best." She pauses. "Can you do that?"

Lysithea turns back to Hubert to check that's okay. Thankfully, he nods back, dumbfounded. "Leonie, Hilda, and I will return to Garreg Mach. We have a presence on the Great Bridge of Myrddin, we'll go that way. Just…" Hubert bites his lip. "Just write to us. Let us know what happens — "

Lysithea lunges forward and holds Hubert tight.

" — we have to love those who we have left."


	13. Scratching Quills

There is a disturbance at Garreg Mach, and though everyone seems to be losing their minds over it, Edelgard is remarkably cool about the ordeal. She is having tea with Byleth when Ferdiand intervenes, falling over his knees panting. "Your Uncle, Edelgard," Ferdinand rasps between inhales. "He is — erm, causing a ruckus."

"Of course he is," Edelgard says mostly to herself, leaving her cup behind and walking off to the courtyard. It makes Byleth sad, and confused. She's not good at this etiquette thing, should she follow Edelgard? Is it appropriate to bring the tea cups with her?

(The tea is important; the two of them were cycling through various blends of tea in _The Hunt to Find Tea that Hubert Won't Get Scrunchy Faced From Drinking. _They were in the middle of downing a Cinnamon Blend that Edelgard was proposing they submit to Ferdinand for further testing.)

…

(Because if you botch the experiment, well, it's hard enough to get Hubert to enjoy tea so one bad batch leads to a year of him sticking his nose high in the air.)

"Oh Professor, you didn't need to bring the tea," Edelgard says, stopping in the doorway. "I'm surprised you didn't spill."

Byleth frowns. "I am very good at holding things," she looks out to the courtyard and discreetly hands Edelgard a cup. "You know how I feel about your Uncle, El… but I think you should bring your cup. You'll look cooler."

Edelgard's eyebrows pop up. "Will I? Well, I suppose I must then."

Byleth props herself up against the massive, oak doors, arms folded as she watches Edelgard ploomp down the staircase.

At the center of the courtyard, Lord Arundel stands red-faced, teeth gnashing at the nonplussed Caspar and Linhardt. "You will answer my questions!" he spits. "Who cast the Anti-Warp Hex? You all know how hard it is for me to get around in my old age!"

"Yawn," Linhardt says.

Arundel's eyes narrow into the slits of a snake. "Excuse me?"

"Hm? I need a nap," Linhardt shrugs. "It takes less energy to say Yawn than it is to actually — ugh, you are such a bore, Arundel."

Arundel grits his teeth. "Little boy, you know who I am right?"

"Yeah, a dullard."

"Lin!" Caspar nudges Linhardt's shoulder. "I don't like the dude, but — "

Arundel swipes at the air, brushing past the boys, face smoothing at the sight of his niece. "Edelgard… so glad you could come. Would you mind commenting on this Anti-Warp Hex? I intended to visit you earlier, this set me back quite a bit."

Byleth can only see the horns of Edelgard's crown from her spot, but she just knows her El is smirking.

"I cast it."

* * *

"Uncle, I thought you were no longer interested in coming to Garreg Mach."

"Hm," Arundel simpers, eyeing what was once Rhea's cathedral. "How could I resist? You were clearly trying to get my attention."

Edelgard frowns, seating herself on the sofa Seteth used to do all his writing at. She stretches out her legs, worried that sealing herself in this room alone with her Uncle will become something to regret. "Attention? I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about."

"Don't be coy, Edelgard, it's unbecoming," Arundel sighs. "Remire Village, last week. You visited them and tried to give them hope. Which we both know is futile, those people are doomed to misery. Does that make sense?"

Edelgard shakes her head. "I went to Remire because I wanted to."

"Oh?" Arundel smirks as if Edelgard just made a particularly clever move in chess. "You don't care about my anger, fine. Explain why you were seen speaking with village leaders in Faerghus yesterday."

"You're spying on me."

"Obviously, I have stake in this war," Arundel sighs, craning his head to view the stained glass windows. "Can we please drop the pretenses? It's insulting. I dislike beating around the bush."

Edelgard leans back, saying nothing, and focuses very intently on Arundel. The skin around his eyes is peeled back, revealing ghastly patches of haunted white. The tips of his hair are turning silver and half of his left pupil is fading into nothingness.

"You look terrible," Edelgard says. "Did you… fight someone?"

"Hm? Hardly," Arundel snorts. "It's the stress of my backend. I've been… working a lot to more aggressively pick up the slack you have left in your misguided attempts at peace."

Edelgard shakes her head. "You and your kind have engaged in no conflicts… at least on the surface."

"You're spying on me as well?" Arundel smirks. "Cute. Yes, these are underground efforts. I've had to reconsider a lot lately… and if you continue your actions, I might have to reconsider _you_."

Despite everything she has grown to be, this still hurts. She suffered so much at Arundel's hand, and to be so easily dismissed after all of that… it is shameful, she thinks, to be so hurt by him still, but she can't help but feel that pain.

"You would change sides?" Edelgard clarifies.

"Possibly," Arundel winds back his shoulders. "The point of this war is to rule Fódlan… not bring power back to the people," he says it with such disdain. "These ignorant, weak commoners mean nothing. Your idea of public elections will inevitably fail and you'll never rule. I'm frustrated that you have bought so much into your own rhetoric that you once used only as device to justify the bloodshed."

Which is true. Edelgard used to not care about anyone but herself. Until Garreg Mach. As Flame Emperor, she needed _something_ to make her at least somewhat reasonable in contrast to Arundel who is so open about his bloodlust.

"I do believe it," Edelgard corrects him. "So many are suffering. Maybe if you visited the lands we burned you'd begin to feel some shred of sympathy — "

Arundel is close to her, she didn't notice him approach. He is stone faced. "Careful, Edelgard. Who are you without me?"

She takes in a deep breath. "I am Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg, the only living heir to the throne after nine of her siblings were killed by a monster."

Arundel stares at her for a long time, so long she thinks he might hit her. Then his expression changes to that of a smile. Somehow, that is more disconcerting.

"Very well," he says.

* * *

A moon passes before anything transpires. It is when Edelgard is meeting with the recently returned Lysithea and Lorenz to discuss the State of the Alliance, the same day her Eagles are dedicated to showing villagers from Remire around Garreg Mach as a sort of… open house, when the sound of Hubert's limp thunders down the halls.

The double doors to Rhea's former chambers slam forward, Hubert hobbling into the foyer as if he were an old man. Though his health has improved from Ferdinand begging him to stay off the field for a while, he could still make better choices to stay alive.

"Your Majesty, I am sorry to interrupt, but something has happened. Lorenz, can you find Ferdinand?"

"Certainly," Lorenz rises slowly, knees wobbling. "Um… should I come back or is this — "

"We can't hide in the shadows any longer," Hubert says. "Bring everyone you can, but please, Ferdinand first. I must speak with him privately."

"Understood," Lorenz nods, running off fast. Quickly, Byleth rises from the sofa and gently guides her old friend into the seat besides Lysithea.

"Hubert, what's happened?"

Hubert nods, paler than ever, and looks to Edelgard. "There has been a coup in Aegir."

Edelgard frowns. "Not by the hands of the citizens, please tell me it wasn't them."

"No," Hubert answers quickly. "I am not sure how he got in contact with them, but Those Who Slither in the Dark conspired with Duke Aegir once again… and killed all of the guards holding him under house arrest. He has seized control of his region, and is challenging us to take his army on."

"He'd lose," Byleth says, hoping to add some kind of comfort to the situation. "This doesn't need to be a — "

"No, Professor," Edelgard corrects. "Um, if you recall… the Insurrection of the Seven. If… Hubert, do you believe…"

"I do."

Edelgard bows her head, promptly pulling the crown from her head, letting her long locks fall loose. "Minister Varley, Count Bergiliez, Count Hevring, Duke Gerth, and Marquis Vestra—"

"Dead," Hubert says fast. "My father is dead. The rest still breathe as traitors to the Empire."

"Former traitors," Edelgard corrects. "They don't have to make the same decision twice. Though Duke Aegir did. If we can round up Bernadetta, Linhardt, and Caspar—"

"No," Hubert snips. "Your Majesty, you — it's done. They will side with Thales. Every time."

Edelgard clutches her temple, which Byleth is sure must be throbbing by now. "No. Varley is a coward, if we threaten him first — "

Hubert tries to stomp on Edelgard's ideals again, but Byleth doesn't let him. She takes Edelgard's hand, which startles her. Byleth feels sorry for that, and sorry for what she is to say.

"El, you've made your war good for the commoners, but not the nobles, and they are the ones with power right now. They… they want what Thales wants."

Edelgard's eyes are wide. Byleth has never seen her this threatened.

Lysithea reaches forward and gently takes Edelgard's other hand. "It's going to be alright, Edelgard."

Byleth turns to Lysithea, awestruck at how keenly she focuses on Edelgard despite it all. The girl just went home to gain aide from the Alliance only to find out that Adresta will soon erupt into a civil war.

"This is fast, I know," Hubert says, somehow managing to keep his back flat to the sofa. "I think it's time we go to Shambala."

Edelgard shakes her head in denial. "We don't know where it is."

Lysithea looks between them. "What are you guys — "

"Edelgard," Hubert says, and it startles her again; he never calls her just that. "I asked you to cast the anti-Warp Hex on Garreg Mach because it forced Arundel to travel on foot…"

Edelgard's eyes widen even more. "He didn't come from the west…"

Hubert nods. "Precisely. It was easy enough to trace where he came from. Allow me to re-call my spy ring and we can take Shambala. If we do enough damage, Arundel may yield."

Edelgard leans back and closes her eyes, falling into a deep concentration.

"Yeah. Good. Okay. If you two wouldn't mind… I need a moment alone with the Professor."

* * *

Edelgard says nothing for some time. Nor does Byleth.

"I missed you," Byleth says suddenly. "Uh, when I was dead. That is."

Edelgard frowns, tilting her head to the side while she ties her hair back up. "What do you mean? How could you have?"

"I don't know," Byleth shrugs. "I just know that I did."

"Well," Edelgard says with much hesitation, eyes darting around rapidly as she likely tries to find some kind of solution to this awkward moment. Byleth is thankful that Sothis no longer speaks, for she would be railing on Byleth now. "Thank you," Edelgard resolves to say in a small voice. "As for this turn of events… where are your thoughts?"

Byleth thinks that over. It would be easy to lie here, and say she is worried about Caspar. The boy is so attached to his father, that the idea of his betrayal would ruin him. Surely, he will be asked to make negotiations but they will go poorly. Hubert is right, and maybe he was right in suggesting years before that the Seven should have been executed.

But Byleth doesn't want to lie. Lying isn't working.

"I'm worried about you," Byleth says.

Edelgard blinks. "Me?"

"Yes. I know the thing that scares you most is yourself. I know you want victory, and you'd do anything to get it, and this… this is ruining what you've been aspiring for as of late. It seems you need to shed more blood."

Edelgard's face falls. "_Seems_? Professor… I… you're right. I don't know what to do."

"I don't either."

* * *

Finding Bernadetta and Ferdinand in the same place is not hard — the two have so wonderfully connected with their respective steeds at the stables. For Bernadetta, it is a young pegasus she is training, and for Ferdinand it is Dorte the Horse. Though it does get awkward when Marianne is also at the stables, tending to her Dorte. But she's too shy to comment on it.

"How are you two doing?" Byleth asks, leaning against the stable.

"Oh you know," Ferdinand sighs, running his fingers through Dorte's mane. Bernadetta looks over and mirrors the same behavior. "Yeah," she rasps.

Not satisfied with either answer, Byleth walks closer to Ferdinand. "Have you… heard from your father?"

The slightest wrinkle cuts under Ferdinand's eye. "Yes, he wrote to me explaining that if I do not go to his side within the next week, he will personally hire bounty hunters to bring back my head. It's quite grotesque."

"...and are you… considering it?" Byleth asks carefully.

"Yes," Ferdinand says plainly. "But I'm far past the deadline so fuck me I guess."

Bernadetta cringes, possibly as a signal to Byleth that she understands that Ferdinand's dark behavior warrants more of the Professor's time. Bernadetta uses a lot of nonverbal language to communicate complex ideas like that, it's nice because Byleth doesn't much like talking either.

Ferdinand continues, "For a man who only sits in power through divine birthright, he sure doesn't seem to care about his own legacy. Nobility… pah."

"Oh shut up you old queen!" Hubert shouts from behind Byleth. She turns to see him slinking out of the shadows; back in the old days, this would scare the shit out of Byleth. Now she's used to Hubert constantly being everywhere in Garreg Mach at once.

"Queen?" Byleth asks. "Ferdinand is — "

"It's terminology," Hubert explains. "A lesbian like you would do well to learn this vernacular."

Why, if Byleth had something to drink, she would surely spit it out everywhere. "I — don't know what that means."

"A lesbian," Ferdinand explains carefully. "Is a woman-identified person who loves women."

"Oh," Byleth says. "I like men and women."

Hubert plows his face deep into his hand. "No, no, you like Edelgard, Professor. Come on."

Byleth blanches. "What? No! No, I, uh, don't."

Hubert looks at her with more disdain than the day they met. "Come now, what are you so afraid of? I've already given you my blessing."

"N-no you didn't."

"What? It was the day you came back, I said I don't plan on assassinating you anymore."

"Oh. Wait."

"Yes, yes, in hindsight I acknowledge its convolution but I have communicated this idea more than once — anyway, _shut up you old queen_."

If Ferdinand were a peacock, his feathers would be splayed in all directions. "I never! Hubert, what my father is doing has presented me with a grievous wound."

Hubert shrugs. "Eh."

Ferdinand scoffs, "What do you want me to do? Kill him?!"

"Yes," Hubert slips in quickly.

"Easy for you to say, Dad-Killer!" Ferdinand exclaims.

"Wait," Bernadetta pricks up. "Hubert, would you kill my Dad for me?"

"Yes, Bernadetta, fine," Hubert drawls.

"Agh!" Ferdinand scowls, face redder than his luxurious mane. "You two! I — I am in moral conflict about what to do about my father. He is my own flesh and blood yet twice he has betrayed everything that I am."

"Three times if you count his baldness," Hubert slips in.

"What! How ignobile!" Ferdinand throws both hands to his hips. "You are incorrigible! I — am truly at a loss, okay? I will never, never betray the Empire, but am I not allowed to have feelings about this? You know how important nobility still is to me, please."

"We do Ferdinand," Byleth steps forward, finally able to slip in a word. "I wanted to check in with you, I know this is hard."

"If not totally unsurprising…" Hubert grunts.

Byleth elbows him in the side. "I taught you better, Hubert, but Ferdinand, it's okay to talk about this. How can we help you through it?"

Finally, the red in Ferdinand's face reverts back to his white complexion. "Erm, you can't, I don't think you can at least. If Thales raises another of a coup, we'll just have to kill my father and abolish the nobility. I — um, could I tell you three about precious moments I've had with my father? Like the time he taught me how to ride a horse? Oh, Hubert, you can go, I can tell you're utterly disinter—thank you."

Byleth blinks and looks around them; she has no idea when Hubert decided to fuck off but now it's just her, Ferdinand, and Bernadetta. She steps forward. "I would love to, Ferdinand."

* * *

Though Byleth's time would likely be better spent working on war efforts, she still spends her Sundays running around Garreg Mach to check in on everyone. Though today in particular, she seeks out Caspa first since she has to connect with him over the coup.

She finds him in the Dining Hall, though for once in his life he is sitting alone and writing something. A letter perhaps? If the circumstances were less dire, Byleth might make a joke asking Caspar if Linhardt finally taught him how to write… but she puts a pin on that and sits across him.

"Writing to your father?" Byleth says.

Caspar jumps, quill fumbling from his fingers. "O-oh, P-Professor, I mean Byleth. Uh, hi. A-and no, actually. A letter wouldn't work, the only way to convince my dad to do anything is to beat him up."

It goes unsaid that at this point "beating up" isn't really an option.

"So who are you writing to?"

"Ashe," Caspar says without hesitation.

"Oh?" Byleth leans back. "Didn't he bust up your knuckles with arrows back at Rhodos?"

Caspar nods. "That was my fault, I was being dumb. I think my letter makes more sense if I, um… want him… over here."

"Ah," Byleth frowns. She isn't exactly opposed to this, but she's worried that they have already taken in a max capacity of students. "Are you writing about what the Church did to Lonato?"

Some red comes to Caspar's cheeks. "No, just like, friend stuff. Like we need a better cook and stuff, Raphael has no idea what a balanced diet even looks like, ya know?"

Byleth's eyes widen. "You really have grown up."

"Professor! Stop, agh," Caspar crumples in. "This is embarrassing enough."

Byleth frowns. She seems to have that effect on her students sometimes. "Are you writing to Annette too? I remember you were close."

"Already wrote it, that one was easier," Caspar shrugs. "Though she's probably pissed about us blowing her dad up. I'm kind of pissed about her killing Ladislava, so."

"...are you sure writing these is a good idea?"

"Huh? Yeah, of course," Caspar sets down the quill and reaches out for a massive jug of water. "If the Golden Deer can forgive us for killing Claude, ya know, I'm sure we can make an agreement."

Byleth looks off to the left. "Um, Caspar…"

Caspar's face falls. "Oh no, don't tell me it's Linhardt. I don't want to hear him gloating about me complaining about Raphael's cooki—oh! Uh, hey Raph… um…"

Raphael looks sad beyond belief. Without saying a word, which is highly unusual for him, he slips in next to Caspar, arms folded across the table. "...I forgive you guys for Claude, I get it," Raphael says. "B-but… my cooking?! Caspar, come on, man. Why you gotta be like that?"

"Sorry, man, it's just — Linhardt showed me the other day that if you fry your broccoli just right…"

"Oof," Raphael shakes his head. "Anyways, I don't know if this is helpful, but what if I write to Ingrid? She's like, my Blue Lion friend. Dimitri is too but I don't know if he would want to hear from me right now…"

"Whoa," Caspar leans back. "You were friends with Big D?"

"Caspar, don't be crass."

"No, I mean like," Caspar mimes having big muscles, flexing his arms in. "Dimitri was big — "

"Ooooooh, yeah, I get it, but yeah, how about my letter to Ingrid?"

"Why would we write to Ingrid? She's — oh, you want to write to all the Blue Lions?"

"Yeah, just not Felix and Dedue since, ya know…"

"Yeah…"

"Hey Ignatz! Come over here!"

Ignatz quickly sputters over, supporting two trays of food, one of which is supporting a disturbingly large slab of steak. "Raphael, can you take this already? It's really heavy and — no, don't eat it in one bite like that…"

Raphael carefully removes the steak from his mouth, and still chewing away on what he swallowed, says, "You're friends with Ingrid and Mercedes, right?"

"Yeah."

"Sit down! We're writing letters to them!"

"Oh okay."

Caspar blinks. "Raph, um, I was just writing to my friends, you guys don't have to — "

Raphael claps Caspar on the back. "Listen, man. If Emperor Edelgard is going to go visit villages in Faerghus, I think we can write letters to our friends, ya know? So anyways, any of you know Sylvain? He's the only one who isn't getting a letter out of this and that's just not cool."

Byleth frowns, trying to remember. She knows Hilda and Sylvain were pals, but Hilda's not at homebase right now. Forced to retreat back to Garreg Mach with Leonie and Hubert, she didn't get a chance until now to go home and grieve with her family over the loss of her brother.

Caspar holds up a finger for each person he names. "Lorenz, Lysithea, _and_ Marianne."

"Whoa," Raphael says in amazement. "But that's way too many letters for Sylvain, the others might get jealous, I mean that's…"

Linhardt steps forward, nose stuck high in the air. "Three letters for Sylvain, two for Ingrid, one for Mercedes, one for Annette, and one for Ashe." He sets his tray down on Caspar's left side. "I can write to Annette, and yes I was listening the whole time. I was hoping you would notice me, Caspar." And then boops Caspar on the nose.

Right, Byleth recently learned that Caspar and Linhardt have been together for some time too… trying to re-enter the conversation. "I can write to Ashe and Mercedes?"

Raphael laughs. "No way, Professor, you're friends with everyone so you're writing to everyone."

Byleth's hand falls to their lap. "Right."

Caspar gets up with a start. "HEY! WHO HERE KNOWS ASHE AND MERCEDES WELL ENOUGH TO WRITE THEM A LETTER!"

"Oh, I love writing letters," Ferdinand guffaws, stepping forward. "I am of course superior at writing letters, even when faced with the likes of the recently sentimental Emperor—"

"Ferdie, stop it," Caspar jabs a finger at his chest. "You know Ashe?"

Ferdinand's face falls into a scowl that would make Hubert proud. "Mercedes."

"Alright, HEY WHO KNOWS ASHE?!"

"Petra does," Byleth says with sudden inspiration. "And Marianne. Also, Lorenz knows Mercedes well, I just remembered."

"Awesome," Caspar's hand falls to his knee. He lets loose a deep sigh, face beet red from all the yelling. "Professor, can we talk?"

* * *

The entrance hall to Garreg Mach used to be bustling with students, faculty, and merchants, but nowadays it's too heavily guarded for passersby, though it is a great place for intimate conversation.

Caspar is very downtrodden, he doesn't make eye contact with the Professor when he speaks. "I'm worried about my Dad."

Byleth nods. "I figured. You were just trying to get your mind off him, right?"

"Yeah, I don't think we can get Ashe and Mercedes to cross over," Caspar admits. "I just thought it'd be a good idea to try."

"Caspar… you know, it's okay to write to your Dad anyways, right?"

Caspar doesn't react, which Byleth takes to mean that he has been thinking about this the whole time. "If I write to him, I don't think I'll be able to kill him."

Byleth looks away. She doesn't know what that is like… though she has wondered sometimes where Jeralt would have gone if he lived. If he would have been proud of his daughter for heeding his warnings and stepping over to the Empire… or if he would have stayed with the Church, and if then, if she'd have to kill him. If she could.

She knows he'd let her though…

"I should get back in there," Caspar huffs. "This letter writing thing is pretty cool, I guess, um, if it comes to killing my Dad though…"

"You don't have to be there, Caspar…"

"No," Caspar says suddenly, teal eyes going icy blue, jaw clamped tight. "I have to. Please, make sure I go. I could maybe make him switch, maybe… Dimitri tortured Randolph for no reason, Dad can't possibly think of letting him win, right?"

Byleth frowns and winds back her shoulders. Nowadays, you can never really predict anything. Too much tragedy happens for any of it to count towards something. "You want a hug?"

"Yes," Caspar squeaks.

* * *

No one visits Garreg Mach anymore; anyone who would have died years ago. But today is the exception to the rule, so much so that all of the Black Eagles gather to celebrate what should be a normal occasion. Though Edelgard is fuming. While she has done well to hide that schoolgirl blush of hers, Byleth notes that the tips of ears still glow when the woman is feeling such anger.

When the wide doors open and reveal Seteth balancing on Jeritza's shoulder, Edelgard silences the applause and cheers, stepping forward. "What in the Goddess' name are you doing here, Seteth?"

All the color in Seteth's face is drained, and he is no longer dressed in his fancy robes. With some stubble along his lip, he looks so different. Yet still he smiles. "I heard of Remire, and what you are doing, Edelgard, and decided this is a cause I can make sacrifices for."

Edelgard's eyes narrow. "Rhea nearly killed you. Didn't she carve out claw marks in your stomach?"

"She did," Seteth says quickly. "But I've seen two moons pass since then. I'm ready to serve."

Edelgard pinches the bridge of her nose and looks to her next suspect: Jeritza. "Why are you here? Don't you have some kind of mission with Hubert?"

Hubert coughs loudly.

Uh oh.

"Hubert's campaigns are stupid," Jeritza says without fear. "Too much sneaking."

Hubert starts yelling, which is rare for him. "And you're too out in the open, gorey about — "

"Hubert."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty."

Edelgard shakes her head and looks back to Jeritza, stunned at how naive her army is becoming at the worst of moments.

"Besides, Caspar wrote me and told me there was a campaign I could join," Jeritza says, pulling a musty looking letter from his satchel.

Byleth's eyebrows shoot up and she looks over to Caspar who is definitely trying to hide behind Linhardt now, which is a fool's errand. No one hides from the Death Knight.

"Uh," Caspar stutters. "Y-yeah. It's a letter writing campaign for the Blue Lions kids. We thought you could write to Mercedes."

For a moment, Jeritza's eyes seem to alter in expression. In which direction, it's hard to say. But then he reverts to his normal, sulking demeanor. "You really buried the lede there."

"Sorry, man," Caspar sighs. "But it's important — "

Jeritza shakes his head and turns away, stomping off towards the Dining Hall, noticeably pulling a quill out of the same satchel. Edelgard turns and casts a withering gaze on her squad, as a sort-of tell to follow Jeritza and leave her alone with Seteth. Byleth of course stays behind because she ain't afraid of nothin'.

Even when it was early into Byleth's return, Edelgard would mind when Byleth showed her presumptuousness, but today she seems grateful for it.

"What you did was very foolish," Edelgard says. "I admire your courage in facing… that woman… but need to ask why you found that to be appropriate."

There is a twitch at the corner of Seteth's flat expression. "The Rhea I knew would understand why I broke rank to protect my daughter. I thought — she would at least be mad at Dimitri, erm, King Dimitri, but… she blames me. Blames me for running."

Seteth noticeably shifts his gaze from Edelgard to Byleth, which sends a jolt to her chest. "The day that you spared me, Professor, was a formative one. It made me give a hard look at what I want to see from this war. Edelgard, you are right about Rhea. Please understand that I do not say that lightly."

Edelgard stays still for a long time, but eventually bows her head. "Thank you for your sacrifice. I just… I just don't want anyone else dying for me."

"Is that why you've been visiting villages?" Seteth asks plainly.

"Yes," Edelgard says. "A thousand times, yes. I know it can't last forever… but these visits make it all feel worth it. I know that's naive but — "

"With all due respect," Seteth interrupts. "I don't know them well, but Randolph and Ladislava would agree, as would many others. Holst, Claude, dare I even mention Felix and Dedue. I have lived a long time Edelgard, I have seen war."

Edelgard rubs a glove to her eye, and Byleth suddenly feels very sorry for her. Angry at herself for not taking time to discuss these things with Edelgard when she knows the Emperor is falling apart inside. Byleth knows she can save her, or that she can at least try, but something keeps stopping her.

"_I'm scared of her,_" a voice echoes in Byleth's mind. "_But I love her all the same."_

Seteth continues, "People won't remember the names of those who died, I'm sorry to say. It's impossible to retain all this grief — but they'll think about the Emperor who kept visiting the people even when her Kingdoms turned against her."

Oh, now Edelgard is crying. Shoot. What is Byleth supposed to do? Is she supposed to look away out of respect, or reach over and comfort her? What feels natural? What does Edelgard want?

Byleth tries. She steps over and gently takes Edelgard by the shoulders, and rubs a small circle into her back. Edelgard doesn't say anything, so Byleth keeps pressing those small circles in, and looks to Seteth with a determined expression.

"I must admit I'm relieved," Seteth frowns. "Rhea has been my best friend longer than you two understand to be real, but this war has changed her. Not in a millennia has she been challenged, and while I think war was a poor choice to settle this conflict, I acknowledge that it was inevitable and honestly… I'm glad you are the one leading the charge. I'm putting my life in your hands."

Edelgard's head bows deeper. Even Byleth feels this emotion now. It's so foreign to her these feelings, but ever since she took an ax to the back in the first timeline of this journey — feelings are becoming inevitable for her.

Seteth looks at the two of them, and smiles wide. If Byleth has her head on straight, she is positive that Seteth flashes her his _"You too?"_ look.

"To lighten the mood," Seteth says. "I'd like to add I'm also putting the fate of my book in your hands. I admit I reached out in advance to Hilda, Manuela, and Dorothea to plan a… sort of musical book tour while we visit more villages. Erm, this joke isn't landing, I suppose because it's true. I will… attend to the dining hall and proofread the letters to this so-called campaign. I'll see you two later."

Edelgard rubs her eye one last time and raises her head high, and honestly, you wouldn't be able to tell that she was just crying so intensely. Slowly, she turns and her cold gaze burrows into Byleth.

"I think… we should talk… about us," Byleth says slowly, nearly wincing at the words.

"Yes, that… seems appropriate."

* * *

Byleth and Edelgard say nothing to each other for some time. To make things easier, Byleth walks several paces ahead of Edelgard, leading her to a once forested area now reduced to ash and charcoal from the fires set by Catherine and Seteth's hand. It's unpleasant, but something of a reminder… of something. Truly, Byleth can't think straight.

"I have a confession," Edelgard is the first to say, and it gives Byleth some relief. She turns to face the Emperor, much farther away than she imagined. "When you returned… I didn't trust you at first."

"I didn't trust you either," Byleth admits. "So don't beat yourself up over it. You thought I could be a double agent?"

"Yes," Edelgard rasps. "Or perhaps you were a doppelganger planted by my Uncle to spy on me. He's always known of how I care for you."

Byleth nods. "What gave it away?"

"When you spared Seteth and Flayn," Edelgard frowns. "I remember it well. Aymr was over my head, about to fall on Seteth's skull, when you intervened and clashed your sword to my ax. You looked down at Seteth… and you told him Flayn had warped away where she could be safe, and…"

"Yeah," Byleth sighs. "It's funny, I thought that was the thing I did that would make you kill me."

Edelgard looks away. "I'm sorry that I've taken actions that have lead you to these sorts of feelings. I seem to, have that effect on others."

Byleth can't help but think of Dimitri raving about Edelgard's apparent crimes. How easily he had been swayed. "There's something I don't get."

"Yes?"

"When I returned, Hubert was very trusting of me," Byleth says. "You know, Hubert. The guy who liked to cackle outside my room late at night to make me think I was going to die. He opened up to me and explained the situation with a startling amount of honesty. He trusted me, you didn't. Why?"

Edelgard looks away again, it's very difficult to make eye contact with her. "Professor, maybe we should focus on the tasks at hand and…"

"El, you — you don't have to be afraid of me. Please."

"Fine," Edelgard's voice wavers, but when she turns her eyes and steely. This is the Flame Emperor, for at least a second, before it fades back to the woman behind that mask. "I'm still scared of you."

Byleth steps forward; it's so quiet they can both hear her boot fall into the piles of ash. "Because if I die, it will destroy you?"

"Please, don't make this harder than it need be…"

"Huh?" Byleth stops in place. "What do you mean?"

"You're being cruel," Edelgard shakes her head. "You know exactly how I feel about you…"

Byleth frowns. Perhaps Edelgard doesn't understand, but still she must try. "I feel lost, El. Before Garreg Mach, well, you know how I was by now, I've hinted to it enough. But now I feel so much, I want things that I don't have and… well, I think it's because of you. I'm scared of you because…" She bites her lip. "_If you die in this war, I don't know what I'd do with myself_.. I don't know if that's normal. This is new to me."

"Wh-what?" Edelgard steps closer. "Wait, you…"

"My heart beats so much when I think of you now," Byleth frowns, and it might be the second time in her life that she has cried. "But it isn't supposed to do that. My heart was still when I was a baby. My dad thought that Rhea did something to me so he… but it's not supposed to do this. It hurts. My body isn't used to it, and yet…"

Edelgard is very close now.

Byleth lets Edelgard touch her cheek. The finger runs down to her chin and it feels good. Byleth finishes, "I am okay with it, because I cherish you so much Edelgard."

Edelgard smiles. "That is such a dramatic way to tell someone you love them."

"Don't make fun," Byleth bites her lip. "But… you… you feel the same?"

Many moons ago, Byleth told herself that if things went awry she would have to do something very difficult — use her last Divine Pulse to return to the Holy Tomb, return to that moment, and swear to Rhea that she will kill Edelgard. But recently, Byleth had forgotten of that, had forgotten of the Divine Pulse, and as she waits for Edelgard to say something — anything — she realizes that magical ability is gone. There is nothing in her blood telling her she can turn back the hands of time.

Because she doesn't want to go back anymore.

"I have loved you since you protected me from Kostas," Edelgard smiles, and her lips get close. This scares Byleth more than anything; she really wishes it weren't that moment, the first time she used the Divine Pulse. It makes her second guess herself, it makes Byleth think she is in a timeline she ought not to be in, that she should have let Edelgard die. That might have been her destiny.

…

Though born to be someone good at taking orders, Byleth at some point stopped being good at taking them, and somehow she knows Jeralt would be proud of her for this.

Byleth lets Edelgard kiss her, and they told each for a long time.

* * *

Felix taught her the maneuvers that are keeping her alive right now, but Felix is dead because he is an enemy. Felix learned magic only for her sake; he was loving and kind except to Dimitri, whom he called a Boar. Which Dimitri was sometimes, though Flayn always had a soft spot for him since he agreed to sample her cooking.

Now, Flayn is worn out. Her Wind spells can only go so far; they ward off direct blows with the swordsman that flank her, and occasionally she strikes the men so hard that the wind tears through their flesh and stuns them. But it's as far as she goes.

She's lucky to have lived this long cutting through Fódlan all by herself. When two of the thieves shove her to the ground, fists pinching her thin limbs, she knows she is about to die…

"I'm told you were once kidnapped over having rare blood," the head thief drawls in a bland nasal. "No idea how to extract something like, but you might be worth keeping alive."

...or be sold.

The thief, Pallardó, touches her chin, examining her like she's merchandise. "Though we would need someone to keep you Silenced, that'll cost us something, hm."

"Unhand me, you scoundrel!" Flayn yelps.

Pallardó smirks. "Heh heh, you know, if your Church decided to let Emperor Edelgard do her bidding, then maybe townsfolk like me wouldn't have to resort to such means. Boys? Get her outta here."

Greedily, his gang of thieves draw closer. These are all desperate people, and Flayn wishes even now that there were something she could do to protect them. But there is nothing at her disposal… and she had gotten so close to Garreg Mach.

...she just wanted to know what happened to her father…

He disappeared, swearing he would return soon after speaking with Rhea. Since then, she's heard nothing. Hidden away in her cavern in the mountains, she struck out to find him and —

— did she just hear maniacal laughter?

Pallardó's neck is craned high, so Flayn looks up too, and she sees a masked figure on his horse leaping through the air in an arc. He swings his scythe and laughs in a deep voice. Flayn knows this man, but the others don't.

"Hold men," Pallardó shouts when he sees several thieves run up to their horses. "That's a loony, we can take him."

"_Can you?"_ the oily voice booms, and out of the thicket steps the Death Knight, eyes glowing like gemstones behind his mask.

"What the fuck," Pallardó groans. Two of his archers leap to his side and simultaneously fire an arrow at the Death Knight's chest. It strikes him clean, for the Death Knight does nothing to evade them. Flayn winces, for she knows what comes next…

...because when you strike the Death Knight, you must hope to fell him in a single blow, else you form a connection with him where he can —

The Death Knight slashes his scythe at the air, seemingly for no apparent reason, but then there are cries of pain silenced as two heads fall onto the grass, and two bodies fall back.

"Holy shit," Pallardó steps back, reaching for his sword. "Uh, hold, men, I — no, don't do that."

The rest of his men are already on their horses, and ride off in a panic. But before they even get that far, an emerald hurricane rips from the darkness and knocks most of the riders off their steeds. Only two men make it through the flurry, and when the dust settles Flayn can plainly see Linhardt on the field. Which means she's safe.

There's a triumphant cry in the distance, and Flayn's eyes almost sparkle when she watches Ferdinand leap from the trees and tackle the two escapees off their horses and to the ground. There's another rustle from the bushes, and she hears Raphael let loose a mighty "ROAR!" It's a technique he taught Flayn way back when. Remembering those old tactics, Flayn roars herself. She roars so loudly it rocks her chest and for a second, knocks the two shaking guards off of her. She turns to fight them when _plunk. Punk. _a twin set of arrows strike them through the hearts.

The mage responsible for Silencing Flayn blinks, then raises his hands for another spell. But then _plunk._ An arrow to his back. It doesn't kill him, he still moves through all the bleeding but when he tries for a spell, he finds that he's been silenced himself.

Ignatz. All her closest friends from the Academy are here!

"Um, um, you — you, want gold? I got gold! Please, p-please, friend, have some," Pallardó whines from behind her. Flayn turns and sees the Death Knight back him up, but not moving a muscle. Always so calm and ominous. Meanwhile, Pallardó digs through his satchel and tosses gold piece after gold piece at him. As if that will accomplish anything.

The Death Knight sighs like a bored teenager, and then his horse flies in from the trees and lands on top of Pallardó, hooves crushing his skull into — well, Flayn doesn't watch that part but she can assume.

So quickly was that resolved. Truly amazing.

Flayn's friends rush to her, and already the Death Knight is boarding his horse, ready to gallop in the exact opposite direction Flayn is looking. But she won't allow it! She — she grabs him by the cape.

The Death Knight spares her a glance before looking off to the horizon. "_Leave me,"_ he says dramatically.

"But brave Sir Knight, you saved my life!" Flayn yelps.

"_Hn,"_ he grunts back. "_I took you from your brother, I cannot look you in the eye."_

Flayn doesn't like that. "You don't have to look at me then, but you shouldn't walk off all moody like this either!"

"_Moody_?" he echoes curiously. "_No, I am not."_

"Flayn!" Ferdinand calls out, panting. "It is good to see you, how did you get here — oh, Jeritza, I see you are trying to leave. Classic Jeritza!"

The Death Knight — no, Jeritza — shakes his head in deep shame. Raphael reaches around and claps him on the back. "This guy's harmless — at least with us!" Raphael calls out. "Yo, Jeritza, if you tell Flayn about her dad, I'll see what I can do about those ice cream rations."

The Death Knight does not move, but his eyes do seem to darken. Wait… ice cream?

"_Wait, 'dad'_?" the Death Knight says, looking around, though it's hard to tell who he is actually looking at. "_'Dad'_?"

"Father's alive!" Flayn leans forward excitedly.

"Yes, he just made it back here," Linhardt smiles. "Jeritza here thought he was your brother so out of his guilt over Mercedes I'm assuming — uh, not to armchair this one — but explicitly because of that he saw it fit to help you… uh, indirectly, I suppose."

"_Phooey,"_ Jeritza sighs. "_You all owe me your ice cream rations for this flagrant dishonesty and manipulation. Only then will you be able to seek comfort in the night."_

Ferdinand jerks a thumb at Jeritza. "Listen to this guy! Goddess, whenever I'm with him, I laugh so hard!"

Flayn bites her lip. This is all so odd, but that doesn't change how elated she feels at all the good news. "Jeritza, you must ride me to Garreg Mach and take me to my father. Make haste!"

Jeritza scowls back at her, all prissy. "_Fine, fine."_

* * *

It is late when Edelgard finally settles into her bedroom for the evening. Though she is restless. While she spent the most lovely afternoon imaginable with Byleth, she knows there is work to be done. While she would love to report to Hubert's room and explain to him everything that transpired with her… her lover!, she cannot disconnect so quickly from reality. She knows there is a war to be fought.

With a snap of the fingers, a flame sparks and catches on the candle at her desk. She nestles into her chair and eyes the stack of parchment before her for some time.

Her fingers twitch as she snatches the quill and steels herself; but she knows this is right.

_Dear Father,_

_I hope that you are well. I wish this war would have ended sooner so that I may have stayed longer by your side. Or that Garreg Mach wouldn't have proved itself to be such a boon to our side. I am writing to you regarding a sensitive subject, one that regardless of your health, I need you to read alone. If an aide is reading this to you outloud right now, gently ask them that you may see this letter for yourself. You are still strong enough for that, I know you are._

_Duke Aegir has turned against the Empire, and has threatened a coup. As time passes, we lose more and more territories. These are the same regions we lost when the Seven turned against you. My uncle is the mastermind of this plot. Once again, he craves power._

_But my Uncle does not care for Adrestia; he never has. Not since his disappearance and resurgence during my girlhood. But I cannot kill him. I think you know why._

_I think you understand what I have done to get as far as I have, and I cherish that you do not admonish me for it. But now, it is a problem. I am asked to fight alone now, but I am not strong enough to survive. I will die, the war will end, and Adrestia will be conquered. The cursed nobility will gain even more strength._

_It cannot be allowed, but I know not how to prevent this… inevitability._

_What can I do?_

_Sincerely,  
Your Loving Daughter, El_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I recently moved cross country to work as an Organizer with RepresentUs, an anti-corruption group, and it's been taking up a lot of my time and emotionally energy. Right now, I only have time to write before I head off to work and on weekends. Even right now, I really have to start getting ready in the next 3 minutes or I'll be late! But life is going well, just having a hard time fitting my writing in which makes me sad. I like this chapter a lot though. Lots of short and sweet scenes. I just did an editing pass and actually liked the first draft for once so I kept with it.


	14. Sick Beats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert & friends go to Shambala. Edelgard and Byleth read a letter.

Shambala sucks.

Hubert vastly prefered Thales' lair within the Sealed Forest, it felt appropriate for him. This lair on the other hand is gaudy and loud. The colors scream, almost _beg_, at the eye to be seen, and rays of light run through the walls, floors, and — everything really. Sort of like veins. At first, Hubert thinks the light beams are some kind of organic; like the tree lair in the Sealed Forest that felt like it was breathing.

But soon he starts to think that it's some kind of advanced technology, so many things down here are things he has never seen, likely, will never see again. He always envisioned Shambala as a hollowed out cave where dark mages lied in every corner, but instead it is like a city. An underground city that rises as high as the surface.

There are signs of life all over. Live- in spaces, shadows scrambling away as he draws closer. It's possible that not all of Shambala is bad, just like any other place. Which is frustrating. Hubert does not want nuance out of the man that has tortured his Edelgard so irreparably. For once, he wants simplicity in this war.

Mechanical drones hover over them between the buildings, slowly drifting through the 'sky,' search lights trailing around as if searching for something. Possibly for them, possibly the residents. The fact that Hubert can't tell is a good example of who Thales is as a ruler… Hubert is thankful at least he chose not to bring Hanneman or Linhardt along for they would surely be distracted by Shambala's splendor.

If he were here for any other purpose, Huber would consider the distraction as well. These are technologies so more developed than what is at Fodlan; the people here must live well. If adapted to the surface, perhaps Edelgard can start a technological revolution paired with her social upheaval. Hubert's eyes focus on a red beam trailing along one of the walls, almost embedded into the metal. He wonders what it does...

But Leonie promptly stabs the beam and it shatters like glass, which is… frustrating.

It was either Leonie or Jeritza, and Leonie is far more housebroken. But her stab makes the light go out on the whole track. These lights seem to be some form of technology. It's a crying shame it may never see itself used for anything useful. The plan is still to destroy Shambala from the inside out, ideally using one of the "javelins of light" Thales has threatened Edelgard with. That would be delicious irony.

"This is weird, I figured we would be ambushed from the start," Leonie mutters, bow drawn. "Do you think they know we're here?"

"Possibly," Hubert muses. "You did break one of their — things."

"It was a scientific study!"

"Sure, put that in the report," Hubert rolls his eyes, personally not motivated to traverse any further down. He would like to go out on a limb and assume that Those Who Slither in the Dark must have been alerted of their presence by now… and he wonders if it is best to let them find him and Leonie. Because they have brought more numbers than that, and it might be best to allow the — Slitherers? Agarthans? Shambalans? Shambala_lalans_? — to find Hubert first and decrease the chances of those cretins finding their full numbers by further blunders like Leonie's.

But then Hubert's questions answer themselves as music begins to play.

Yes. Music.

Fuckin' Thales.

It starts off with this odd, ethereal pulsating, swinging up and down. It reminds Hubert of waves rolling in and out. Then this strumming loops in, it's an instrument Hubert has never heard before, far less one he would play at a recital. It's this harsh beat that batters the score, and it gets faster and faster, and so does the pulsating…

...and then a crash.

_BWAAAAAAAAAO bwaobwaobwaobwaobwaoBWAAAAAAAAAAO!_

Multiple crashes strung together, masked by an electronic distortion. Hubert does not know this, but nine hundred years later this music would be referred to as dubstep.

"I suppose you're not here to make a delivery," a snide voice hisses from up high on one of the buildings that dares to scrape the sky. Hubert cranes his neck and sees the fearsome mage, Myson, glaring down at them, surrounded by flanks of dark mages and bishops. "Boys? Kill them."

Fuckin' Myson.

Myson spreads his arms wide, crying out in glee as the rest of his stooges mirror his move, and just like that a surge of lightning rains down from the sky. Hubert frowns, winces in anticipation and on instinct turns to Leonie — she has no idea how to resist magic like he does, and if he doesn't do something she'll — screw it. He clenches his fingers deep into his palm and feels himself connecting to her lifeline. A striking pain as the lightning blasts into him, but he holds onto her, and though he knows she's hurting she'll live.

This is what Emperor Edelgard would want him to do, right? Spread his wings to protect their Eagles? He doesn't know.

When the lightning fades, Leonie is stooped over, wheezing — no, _he_ is wheezing. She is just breathing harshly, the sounds he hears are only himself. He touches his cheek and feels the blood dripping from his ear. He bites his lip and looks back up, rummaging for a vulnerability. Not here. _He can do more_.

Myson raises his arms again and the dark sky lights up again. Hubert sees the prinpricks that will shift into lightning emerge among the storm. He won't be able to make it this time, it's too late — then arrows pepper into the mages, not from below but from straight-on. One by one mages and bishops fall over dead, likely gurgling as blood spills from their throats.

Hubert turns to see Shamir atop one of the buildings. Spotted by the mages, she slings her bow back into place and sprints off the building just as the top of it lights up in flame. She falls a few stories before a wyvern swoops out from under her and catches her.

Petra.

Petra flies the wyvern high up, and Shamir unleashes another flurry of arrows.

"_HUBERT!_" Leonie screams, or at least, he assumes that's what those sounds are supposed to be.

Hubert turns and nearly bumps into Leonie who is right besides him. He can hardly hear her, so she waves her arms frantically in the direction he needs to look.

Holy shit.

Two of the buildings open up like a set of doors and out steps these — these golems. Boulders stacked atop each other, blue and green lights running up and down its limbs and torso, somehow connecting it. Both golems clutch in their massive fists a long green saber that flickers with power. As they draw closer, the throb of the music gets louder. Hubert feels the beat in his chest. It's almost like — the music is coming from the golems?

These black crates with nets thrown over their fronts sit on the golems' shoulders and yes — in nine hundred years, those are called boom boxes.

Then more black hooded figures appear, slinking out from alleys and storefronts, white hands shaking at the handle of their weapons. It's as if the music were some kind of call. Up close now, Hubert can see what these 'people' look like.

Like corpses.

Hubert has been in this war for five long years now, and he has been killing many years before that. Since his childhood. Some of these faces are familiar.

Yes, he sees it — Felix Fraldarius, Dedue Molinaro, the former Marquis Vestra, Randolph, Ladislava, Metodey… corpses adopted by these — these creatures. Maybe because they have to so they can survive? Still, it makes his hands tremble in disgust.

"_HUBERT, GET TO IT!_" Hubert hears loud and clear. He turns to Leonie, but it's not her. She points up at the right-hand golem, so Hubert turns.

A red dot with flying white hair descends on the golem, Her violet robes flutter as she lands and her sword stabs through the head of the golem. Sparks crackle from the golem and then a brilliant glow of dark magic blasts from the sword, violet light sputtering out from the cracks in the robot's armor. It shakes and Lysithea rolls off its back, landing on her feet at a sprint, dashing away fast as the arms and legs snap off the torso.

But they stay fastened, bright cables of red and green keeping them attached. The movements become more erratic, the saber carving craters into the metallic floor.

And with that the civilians charge out from under the golems, screaming. Hubert's seen this behavior before; it's from the people who truly don't want to fight. Hubert glances up at the skyscraper again, and blinks when thunder booms, the dark gray of the emerging clouds masking Petra's black wyvern. He wishes he were up there with them, for that is a much simpler conflict.

"Hubert, I don't think these people want to fight," Leonie says, readying her bow.

"They don't," Hubert sighs. "But what choice do we have?"

* * *

_My dearest El,_

_What you write breaks my heart — I wish I had more power. I want to vow that I will be the one to make sure that you don't become weak and feeble like me. I once possessed power, I remember when you were little how you saw me. Then they took you away and when you came back, I was weaker than ever._

_I let them consume me. I knew they had a scheme, yet still I did nothing to prevent the coup. I remember how downcast you were, how you looked away from me in shame for what happened._

_But El, whatever it is they did to you, you became strong. In the face of adversity, you stand taller. That is how I know you will win this war. Easy though that might be for a decrepit old man like me to say._

_I don't want you to write back to me. By the time you read this letter, the Seven will likely be at my door, a dagger prepped for my throat. I am ready for them to come to Enbarr and take me. I will not spend civilian lives on this fight, I plan to give myself in and let them kill me._

_You would do well to forget about me and move on. Keep fighting. Keep winning. Keep smiling my beautiful El._

_Please. If I have any power left in me… I hope that it can be used to at least help you._

_Your Loving Father,  
Ionius_

Byleth holds the parchment for some time before looking to Edelgard. _Her _Edelgard now. Her Edelgard who sits on the frame of window sills to brood. Byleth doesn't know what to tell her. "You wish to go to Enbarr, don't you?"

Edelgard nods, spreading her arms across her knees like a cat might when they stretch. "But that would be unwise, wouldn't it?"

Byleth says nothing. In the past, she had been hired by politicians to extinguish bloody revolutionaries… like Edelgard. This isn't the first time.

"In truth," Edelgard says carefully. "I want them all dead. I want to storm Fhirdiad and sink my ax into Rhea's chest. I want every last noble who refuses to step down to be placed below a guillotine." She turns her head, and her eyes are empty of any feeling. "I want the Church eradicated from memory."

"El…"

"But I know I can't do that," Edelgard frowns. "Before you though, those were my goals. Perhaps in another timeline where you chose a different student… maybe I would have grown to become cold."

Edelgard looks back out the window, careful to hide her expression no doubt. "Do you know how many of _my own people_ I killed masquerading as the Flame Emperor? They were all informed in advance that it was a suicide mission… I cursed the success of our class that it forced us to take on the extreme assignments.

"I cursed Bernadetta for following me around, and Linhardt for aggravating me so much when he didn't attend class… I remember when you chose Ferdinand to be our representative for the White Heron Cup that I couldn't stop thinking about how jealous I felt…

"...it's not fair for me to disavow the knighthood after what I did to my most loyal subjects in the years building up to… this. What do you think of that, Professor? Do you see now why Dimitri was driven to madness by my actions?"

"I think…" Byleth sighs. "That the cruelty you show yourself can only please someone like Arundel."

Edelgard turns back with narrowed eyes. "I am damaged irrevocably."

"You can try to get better, you can listen to me and let me help you."

Edelgard stays very still, it reminds Byleth of those moments where it was impossible for her to tell what Edelgard was thinking. But she knows better now.

"We don't talk of it much," Byleth bows her head. "But the Goddess, Sothis, the one who resided in my head… she gave me the power to wind back the hands of time."

This seems to get Edelgard's interest. She clasps her hands over her knee, watching Byleth intently. "I died when I protected you from Kostas… I'd like to think that power awakened because it was the first time I ever made a sacrifice like that."

Edelgard blinks. "But you've always been so heroic…"

"Not always," Byleth corrects. "I was a mercenary. I floated through Fodlan with my father, doing what was asked of me by the highest payer. It didn't matter what, and I never… felt anything, working like that. I never made decisions for myself, and even at Garreg Mach, I just… all signs pointed to there being a problem, but I missed them. Had you not spoken to me after we killed Lonato…"

Byleth gives Edelgard a moment to recall it, the time she told Byleth that this people's revolution has meaning.

"...I hadn't thought of that, I was still treating it like a job, but you helped me see it," Byleth leans back. "I was a master tactician for you because I could wind back the hands of time, all while I just kept my head down and did as I was told. Now… I don't have that power anymore."

Edelgard gently steps down from the window sill and gets closer to Byleth, so close Byleth can hear her breathe. "But… why? Is… is Sothis angry with you?" She says it playfully, like she doesn't really believe it.

"Hardly," Byleth sighs. "I think it's because I made a decision recently… on what I want."

"Want?" Edelgard repeats, a little knit of frustration forming between her eyebrows. "I am confused… what did you decide on?"

Byleth smiles. "I chose you, El."

Edelgard's eyes widen and it's clear to Byleth that Edelgard understands that this isn't a fable, that it's real. Why else would Byleth say something so absurd? Edelgard fights to keep her composure, white cheeks glowing bright red. She turns away, finger raised to her lips.

"Oh Professor."

* * *

Tendrils of black curl through the mobs in Shambala, but all too soon it becomes apparent that the only way to end the battle is to cleave through the civilians themselves. So Hubert kills one after the other after the other, all while keeping an eye on the sky, watching Petra's wyvern bob in and out. It's impossible to tell if Shamir is gaining any traction on Myson, but he knows Lysithea and Leonie are doing well at dismantling the golems. He trusts them.

That is another thing Emperor Edelgard has taught him: trust.

He remembers the day the Eagles stayed by Edelgard's side against all odds, and how quickly Edelgard had tracked him down in the Enbarr fortress when he wandered off.

"_Sit down_," she snipped. "_You're in shock,_" she explained as she forcefully jabbed a cup of coffee into his trembling hands. "_Breathe._"

He never thought he'd have to care for anyone other than Edelgard in this arrangement, but that cursed Professor changed everything — for the better.

"_They love us, I know, it's bizarre that our affection might be returned,"_ Edelgard says coldly. "_Ferdinand is distraught _— _I think a conversation would do the both of you some good."_

A screech louder than a banshee's cuts through the air, and Petra's wyvern flops backwards. Another thundercloud blooms and the dark gray is just light enough to reveal the silhouettes of two falling figures. Hubert stretches his hands high — feebly though he does it. Ferdinand had been in the process of teaching him a Rescue spell for this sort of a scenario, one that takes from Faith magic, but Hubert is not well versed in it enough so he cannot catch Shamir and Petra. He cannot save them.

Then — a stab to his chest. He feels the knife slink in, and he reacts fast, blasting a plume of miasma before him but no one is there. He stumbles forward, dragging his hand to his chest. There is no blood, no cut, but still he feels the knife twisting inside him.

"You've spent too much time toying with actual knives in the dark to learn the best black magic there is," he hears Myson sneer from afar. He blinks, his vision blurring rapidly, he can sort of see Myson standing three in the shadow, fist clenched as if dragging on a rope. With his pull, the phantom knife sinks deeper. Hubert can't move, it's all fading fast. How — how did he fail so quickly?

Myson closes the gap between them and as he lifts Hubert to his feet, Hubert sees white dust falling in a mist. Some kind of warp powder he assumes. Myson thrusts his arm forward and smashes Hubert's back into a wall that didn't exist before. He crumples back into a heap, now in an alleyway. Myson cackles, pulling a black toothed dagger from his belt. He licks the tip and then slashes it into Hubert's bicep, right into the Dark Seal. The knife pierces the seal, and the already astounding pain quintuples as dark magic eats at Hubert's innards.

"That's one," Myson laughs gleefully. "Where did you put the other — ah." He stabs at the thigh, and cracks the second seal. They contained outstanding power, and though Seteth requested that any findings from the Black Eagles numerous battles with the Flame Emperor's army be returned to his office, Hubert kept the Dark Seals and sewed them into his skin to become stronger for Edelgard. Now it is backfiring.

"The moment Edelgard introduced you to Thales I knew you had to be killed," Myson said. "Now I have the excuse."

"No shit," Hubert grunts, trying desperately to hold on. He is sure anyone else would be dead by now. Myson's ramblings fade into the background as he tries to remember. Remembers when Edelgard sat him down in their old classroom and told him of the Crest Stone, told him of the sacrifice she would make if it meant helping everyone else.

He knew he should have stolen the thing from her… think of what good it could do for him now… might as well perish in a blaze of glory.

"_I can do more_," Hubert hisses under his breath. A knife cuts into his ribs, but this time it doesn't hurt. He just feels the sensation of the foreign metal searching through him, cutting him up. It reminds him — no, reminds_ her _of the travesty that happened to Her Majesty and the nine who should have lived — her rage permeates into his hands which spring back to life. He feels a Crest burning in his Crest, though he has no Crest to speak of. But he knows it's Edelgard's. Somehow, she's helping him.

Hubert wonders if Edelgard knows of this connection.

Flame bursts from his hands and jettison into Myson, knocking him back, howling in pain. Hubert wants to get up, and he feels hands come to his shoulders, gently guiding him back to his feet. He feels what can only be the Professor's Faith in him, healing his flesh and bringing him back to life. He steps towards Myson and wishes he could keep this piece of filth alive long enough to bring him to Lysithea… somehow Hubert knows it was _him_.

But instead Hubert's rage translates to a swipe at Myson's chest. The tip of a spear cuts right through the flesh, though earlier Hubert had no weapons. Now he holds the Arrow of Indra. He eyes it curiously, before stepping forward and stabbing it into Myson's ribs. But he doesn't stop there, he pushes harder and the spear breaks through the wall and embeds itself in the metal.

Hubert releases the spear and looks down at Myson. He is horribly burnt, the fake skin he wears crumbling away and revealing the ghastly flesh. "You're dying. It'll take some time though. Tell me something I'd like to know and I'll let you die right now."

Only one of Myson's eyes looks up, and his mouth curls into a snarl. "You can't keep this stalemate with Faerghus forever."

Hubert narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"Because _we control Faerghus."_

Hubert almost believes that, but despite King Dimitri's workings with these monsters, it is still unlikely.

Myson continues, "Cornelia is one of ours, and she will force your hand. Or she'll kill Dimitri and take Faerghus for herself."

Hubert doesn't say anything. He awaits his orders.

"_Let him rot," _Edelgard's voice says in his mind.

Hubert pulls the Arrow of Indra from Myson's ribs and lets the man keel over. Even if rescued, no one can save him from death. So he lets that be and walks back to his Eagles. Already, he knows the conflict is calming. He knows that Lysithea was able to Warp Petra and Shamir to safety, and he knows that regardless of the injuries and death they caused.

Something to do with that trust he's learned to have. Leonie is the first one he sees when he exits the alleyway. Already, she is rummaging through the remains of one of the golems. He turns to Lysithea, Shamir, and Petra, all alive and well. He motions for Lysithea to come closer.

"Come, I want to show you something."

* * *

Lysithea expected more from meeting the man who held her captive and tortured her, but it was quite anti-climactic. She does not blame Hubert for that — he is in some kind of delirium from nearly dying one again and when he gets like this, Lysithea just goes along with it.

When they return to Garreg Mach, their company is greeted by Edelgard and the Professor. Quickly, Lysithea notices the panic in the Emperor's eyes so she steps forward. "Hubert wandered off to find Ferdinand; he's alright."

Edelgard's expression falls and she seems to mutter something under her breath, something quiet enough that not even Byleth seems to hear her based on the way she looks to Edelgard curiously.

Shamir steps forward, always one for brevity. "The Agarthans sent an army of civilians at us, but we lived… obviously. Their leader, Myson, told us that we best head to Arianrod to take out Cornelia. Apparently, she is one of theirs."

Edelgard frowns. Lysithea wouldn't be shocked if her friend has past dealings with that nefarious man. Lysithea hopes, at least, that Edelgard won't be as easily trusting of this information, but when that hope is dashed and fades into something murky, Lysithea speaks up. "It might be a trap."

"Yes," Shamir snips. "But — if it's true, the Agarthans could easily seize both Faerghus and Adrestia."

Lysithea admires Shamir for being able to say these things so resolutely, as if none of it really affects her. Lysithea only wishes she could be so cold.

Edelgard turns to the Professor, eyes steely. "I suppose this is the answer we were looking for, my teacher." She looks back to the company. "It's possible it is a trap, but we don't have a choice. The idea that Cornelia could be one of… them… is certainly possible, and if we can stop her… we might be able to save Faerghus and end this."

Lysithea doesn't like this, but she doesn't know if she has enough say here to speak up.

"No."

It's the Professor.

Edelgard looks to Byleth in shock. "P-Professor?"

"We can't," Byleth says in a stern voice. "We can't —_ you_ can't save everyone, El."

Edelgard steps back mortified; Lysithea knows that feeling all too well.

"They want you to let them take Enbarr," Byleth says fast. "You know this. It's so obvious."

Edelgard swallows a lump in her throat. "If they take Enbarr, we can take it back. But what they will do to the people of Faerghus is far worse than what they can do to Astrestia… at least for now."

Byleth bites her lip. "But… El…"

Trying to calm the situation, Shamir steps forward. "If we go to Enbarr, we lose. The reports I'm getting are telling me we have already lost 30% of our army to the coup. If they have what we saw down in Shambala… I can't see us winning. But Arianrod is doable."

"Well…" Byleth backs away like a scared animal. "What if… what if they don't believe us? That Cornelia isn't who she says she is? Even if their trap fails, no one would even understand what we truly did. We can't."

"What if we go to Enbarr and win, but stay locked in an eternal civil war with Faerghus then?" Edelgard shoots back. "I didn't live underground and get _cut up_ just to — just to — I'm sorry.

"Me too," Byleth mutters. "I'm sorry."

The silence is uneasy. Lysithea isn't sure what to make of any of it. But she knows that their target needs to be whatever will hurt Those Who Slither in the Dark most. In the ideal world, that would be destroying Cornelia and ending their power over Faerghus.

"What if we send our army to Enbarr — " Lysithea suggests. "And the Strike Force to Arianrod? It can't have _that_ many troops."

Byleth and Edelgard say nothing.

Assuming control, Shamir nods. "Sounds good, I'll rally the troops and get the message out." She walks away. Lysithea isn't sure what to say, so she eventually walks away too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! This has been on hiatus and I think we're going on hiatus again. The story is fully outlined but I want to work on other projects for a while. I'm working on a Trans!Black Eagles AU (yes, all the Black Eagles) that's also a PTSD sorta sickfic for Edelgard. Should be up next week hopefully! Thanks for reading.
> 
> You can [follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/IAmLordMeatwad) for tweets about my cats and fanfic, and [follow me on Insta](https://www.instagram.com/katrinajagelski/) for similar stuff. Occasionally I do live reads for my original fiction and fanfic.

**Author's Note:**

> This game is amazing. Genuinely cried at the ending. I have only played the Crimson Flowers route, currently going through Golden Deer right now and I already miss the Black Eagle kids so much. 
> 
> My objective of this story is to have Edelgard deal with the fact that though she is getting what she wants, the organization that is her crutch, Those Who Slither in the Dark, are a genuinely disturbed and vicious people. Many of her supporters are hateful. People are dying on her watch, and sometimes she is forced to lie to her own friends. She is going to try to find another way, but war is inevitable now. 
> 
> I'll add tags as we go probably. I'm going to wing it. Really excited, and hope you enjoy this journey I take you on. <3


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